What Chrissy Leaves the House In

My daughter, Chrissy
Leaves the house
In nothing but a bikini

Covered only by a blanket
That says--

'Love Slut'

And army boots
And a hat with smurfs on it
And a smile

I know what the other mothers will say

They'll say--

'Who lets their daughter go to school dressed like that?'

When I talk about the other mothers
I like to imagine that the 'o' and 'm' are capitalized

I think of them as--

The Other Mothers

A secret society of women
Whose only job
Is to make other women
Feel bad about themselves

Oh, and to bake

In my head they bake
They bake incessantly
While talking about my daughter
And her smurf hat

Do I think she looks good?

Of course not
I'm not even sure
She thinks she looks good

But do you remember the part
Where I talked about her smile?

How she leaves the house smiling?

I'm not sure the Other Mothers realize
What that smile is worth

Or rather, I'm not sure they realize
What the opposite of that smile
Would cost

I've seen the other side of that smile
And let me tell you something
I'd rather face down a female gorilla in heat
Than my daughter
When she's told she can't do something

The Other Mothers don't realize
That I was not given a daughter
Who obeys

I now believe obedience is a quality
That some are born with
And some are not

My daughter was born with no obedience
And her father's temper
So I knew I was screwed
From the beginning

And since then, I have learned
To pick my battles

I will go to war over drugs
Violence, stealing, pregnancy
Piercings lower than the neck
Tattoos higher than the neck
And flunking out of school

But smurf hats and army boots?

I let it go

I have seen the devil
And the devil is not a smurf hat

The devil is a boy named Chris
Spelled 'K-R-Y-S-Exclamation point'
Who showed up at my house
Wearing a t-shirt that said--

'Slut Banger'

Considering my daughter's blanket
Said 'Love Slut'
I didn't entirely believe the two of them
When they said they were going to, quote--

'Hang out at a church, or something'

My daughter doesn't put up a fight
When I tell her that if Krys walked into a church
He'd probably turn to ash
Or the church would catch on fire
Because she knows
That a mother who picks her battles
Usually wins the battles she picks

So she went back into her room
And started sewing the words 'Moms Blow'
On a pair of booty shorts

I'm guessing she'll be wearing them Monday to school
If you're interested in checking out her handiwork

I dream that one day she'll wear a business suit
Instead of a parka over a panda bear costume

Or an evening gown
Instead of pajama pants
And a tank top
Made out of saran wrap

Or just something...normal

Some mothers, Other Mothers
Harp on their daughters
For not being pretty enough

I'd kill to have mine walk out of her room one day
In a t-shirt and jeans

And I'm sure she will

...One day

But until then, I'll just keep making her breakfast
And asking her about her day
And telling her that her cape is askew
And that her Elmo sunglasses are adorable
And that I think dyeing her hair bright orange
Is a fantastic idea
And would she like help with that?

Because, to be honest
As long as she remembers to kiss me on the cheek
And smile at me before she goes
In my mind

She doesn't look
All that bad