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The Best Part of Parenting? Blaming Your Kid for Stuff

Think that parenting is all about shaping the next generation? It is. That, and having someone to blame for my bad taste in music.


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There are a lot of wonderful things about motherhood. Helping to shape a young being into a great human, that lovely new baby smell, the pride of seeing your child take their first step or go to their first prom.

But one of the best parts no one ever talks about? You can totally blame your guilty pleasures on them and no one will ever be the wiser.

Do you love Taylor Swift and know all the words to all her songs?  I recently had a friend shoot me a confused look when that infectious "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten came on in the car and I started singing along. I just shrugged and said, "Well, I have a 9-year-old." That response made perfect sense to him. ‘OH, IT’S HER KID’, he thought, logically. But here’s the truth: The reason I know every word has nothing to do with my daughter. Instead, it’s  because I hear it on all the reality shows I watch, because I still ride around with Z100 blasting in my car and because I liked it enough to put it on my power walking/running mix. Totally on me, but she's an easy scapegoat.

I also LOVE all things Disney. Always have. My house has snowglobes filled with Ariel, Jack Skellington and Pete's Dragon. New friends or the cable guy come in and see my daughter's hot pink room and just presume that all of the Disney memorabilia is hers… and I don't bother to correct them at all.

Also, minions? Totally adorable. Love them probably even more than my kid does. They just make me laugh. The random McDonald's minion toys she left in the car… yeah, those are mine now.

When we go to Land of Make Believe or Great Wolf I ride all of the rides… she doesn't actually need someone to go on with her at this point, but I'm clearly just being a good mom keeping her company. Right?

The messy house? I have often said, "I've just been so busy with work and my daughter... " and people get it. They believe. I’ve also claimed that the entire pile of junk collecting on my living room table is hers, when a solid 30 percent of it is the remains of a craft project I’m in the middle of working on.

It’s awesome:  Being a mom has allowed me to remove some of the stress off of keeping my house perfect at all times, and has allowed me to act like a kid again… both in a completely judgment free zone. Or at least to my friends who still buy my "cleverly disguised" excuses.

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