Pretty much the only thing that quiets my darling baby boy is Katy Perry. Yes, blue-wigged, candy-cane pastied Katy Perry. And, you know what? I’m not mad about it.
One beat of a Katy Perry song and my two month old enters a world of wonder, and he no longer grunts or squeals. In fact, he doesn’t make a single peep during the Katy Perry movie. I suppose it’s because he wants to cherish every note of each song. And that’s okay. Because right now, Katy Perry is the only thing keeping me sane.
And, yes, for those of you who caught that line, I did mention the Katy Perry movie. And, no, I am not shielding his eyes from the television. I’m letting him binge-watch Katy Perry the Movie: Part of Me on Netflix. And not a single fuck is given. Go ahead and cast judgment. Call me a bad mom. Tell me all about developmental delays. I dare you.
Because here’s what I have to say about that:
1. Letting my two month old son stare at the television is better than the alternative. The alternative being both me and baby having an epic meltdown. You do not want to see me in meltdown mode. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
2. Katy Perry is fascinating. She dresses up like a piece of candy on the daily. She’s the Madonna of our time. I should be getting an award for schooling my son in the art of pop culture. For real, though.
3. Being a cranky bitch will not make my son a better person. Yeah, a lot of women tend to overlook this when they’re obsessing over milestones. But it’s true. If I’m not in a good mood, how am I supposed to focus on teaching my son anything? Really. Being insane and sleep deprived is not a way to go about things. And if the Katy Perry movie provides me with a 40 minute nap and time for a snack, then you better believe I’m going to abuse the shit out of that production.
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