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Friday, 2 March 2012

Only the Lonely
A better kraken than me
Whoa there, Great Britain, hold your frigging horses. What the frig is with the demonisation of single mothers, then, eh? Have all 62,218,761 of you lost your Daily Mail-poisoned minds? Because if you ask me single mothers should be kissed on the collective arse, what with them inhabiting the seventh circle of hell otherwise known as being the permanent and sole target for feeding duties/ tower building/ bum wiping.
What I mean is, I'm struggling to raise a kid with the help of Conjugal Kraken and assorted family members. How the fuck women do it when they are completely alone is beyond me. When do they ever get to drink a hot cup of tea? Or get dressed? Or take a shit?
Christ, I haven't taken a shit on my own for four years. How I'd manage if I was the only parent available to said offspring fills me with the sort of terror that turns my bladder icy. Seriously, it'd be me wearing the nappies just so I could get through the day.
And how the frig do single mums manage when they've come down with the lurgi? Just the thought of it makes me weep. Imagine crapping and puking your way through days of gastroenteritis all while building marble runs and grilling chicken nuggets? At what point, pray, would you get the chance to lay face down on the floor of the bathroom and weep yourself to death?
Really, it's a mystery to me how single mothers aren't single-handedly keeping therapists and counsellors in gold bullion. I sprinted over the edge even with a phalanx of willing assistants. Without them I'd have barely left the delivery room. In fact I'd probably have been transported straight from there to the psych unit just to save on the middlemen.
Which is why ripping apart these women is so pitifully short sighted. Forgetting the political and moral blatherings, they're working about as hard as it's possible to work without visiting a Gulag camp. And, OK, if they have fucked up on the procreation front, it's safe to say that they're frigging well paying for it when they've had four hours sleep for ten days in a row.
In fact, they don't need the pitchfork waving masses to point out pitfalls of single motherhood. I dare say the downside crosses their mind 40 times a day, like when one hand is filled with shitty wet wipes, the other hand is holding a wrigging baby and they need another hand to...oh.
So let's just give the babymama bashing a rest eh? Think about your own parental chaos and wonder how the fuck you'd have managed on your own. I dare your bladder to survive the sudden onset of an ice age. Brrrr.

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