Bad Mom

So am I a Bad Mom? Hugh was singing this chirpy, get-inside-your-head-forever chorus that pretty much goes "Fuck you, fuck you very much." So, aspiring to be a Good Mom, I'm all set to throttle him. Then he shows me the video on Youtube, and it's the British singer Lily Allen, and the song goes back to the Bush years:

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind
and look a bit harder
cause we’re so uninspired
so sick and tired
of all the hatred you harbor
CHORUS: Fuck you etc. etc. etc. [But truly, it's very catchy. . . ]

Am I a Bad Mom because I laughed and joined in singing? Surely a Good Mom would gently remind her adolescent son, as he struggles to find his way in this world, that we must love our enemies, even when it's really hard? Surely a Good Mom would point to the importance of civility, not only in dealing with neighbors and family members, but in political discourse as well? Surely a Good Mom would suggest that such a song divides us rather than helps us move forward toward responsible solutions to the vast problems that we all face?

But today is Friday, November 5th, 2010. And three days ago, on Tuesday, November 3rd, 2010, well, we all know what happened three days ago. My soul is tired. My spirit is shattered. I am well and truly depressed.

The victors keep talking about "taking the country back." Back? Back from whom? Me, I guess. Evidently I don't belong here. And honestly, I would emigrate, but what country wants an overeducated, underskilled, middle-aged historian? We're not all that useful, really.

Certainly not here in Tea Party Land, this strange sordid place where I suddenly find myself living. And then along comes my beautiful boy singing this catchy song in this lovely British accent. We sang. We laughed. I'm a Bad Mom . . . but damn, Hugh and I, we were Good.