My daughter has become obsessed with blogging as of late. Specifically my blogging. She has this perverse desire to read my posts. Which I’d welcome if she were a smidge older. But I really don’t think she needs to read about her mother’s cooter or her father’s prowess in the sack.

Call me crazy, but I’d like for her to retain a smidge of respect for her parental units and maybe the ability to keep looking us square in the eye without blushing and knowing her parents are sick twisted human beings and she somehow drew the short straw when being assigned parental units.

After nagging me the other day until I thought my head would pop off from frustration and tumble down the dry dusty gravel road I live on, I looked Fric in the eye and asked her what her fascination with my blogging habits were.

“I just think it’s neat you can write what ever you want and people read it. It’s cool.” She explained.

I had to agree with her. It is cool.

“I want to have a blog of my own.”

“Um, no.” Emphatically. NO. For a myriad of reasons, some safety oriented, others sanity related, there is not freaking way I want my daughter, at the age of almost twelve to be spewing her guts to the internet.

“Why don’t you just start with a journal,” I suggested. “That’s what I did at your age. I wrote in a diary.”

She wasn’t satisfied with this. “But Moooooom,” she whined. And then the phone rang, it was a boy and magically all was forgotten.

Until I opened my lap top this morning.

“Mom, I want a blog.”

“No.”

“You aren’t the boss of me.”

“Actually, chicklet, the law says I am. Too bad for you.” Muaahahahahah. Still, I’m not that evil. (Read: I’m easily wrapped around her finger.)

Looking at her pouty face and not wanting to have to listen to her whine to the universe in general about what a unfair, three horned devil mother I am, I quickly wracked my brains to figure a way to appease her.

I came up empty. Until I offered her the chance to write a post on my blog. Because, you know, I have rocks for brains.

You would have thought I just bought her a sparkly unicorn with a leprechaun as her personal jockey, she was so happy. (Looks like I’m back in the race for that coveted mother of the year award. Heh.)

Besides, I haven’t had a guest poster in a while. So, with out any further ado, I introduce to you, my daughter, Fric, and her words (entirely unedited) about what it’s like to live with me. Her redneck mommy.

Hi everyone. This is Fric. That’s not really my name and I don’t really like it. I wanted to be Frac but I guess that isn’t much better either. I wish Mom had picked a cooler name for us but I can’t really complain because in real life she calls my brother and me Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. She won’t tell us which is which, she says it depends on the moment.

I think its cool that people read my mom but it bugs me that she won’t always let me read her posts. She says I”m not grown up enough yet. I can’t really figure out why she thinks that because it’s not like she can write anything worse than I’ve caught her saying sometimes.

My grandma says mom has the mouth of a gifted sailor. I think that means she can swear really well. She tries hard not to, but most of the money in the swear jar on our counter comes from her pocket. She says we are going to use that money to go to Disneyland.

I just want everyone to know my real mom. She’s been on tv alot lately and in some newspapers. She was even on the radio oneday while I was on the school bus and our bus driver, Cheryl, let us listen. I was kinda embarrassed. She sounded a bit dorky. But it’s neat having all the other kids think my mom is cool.

But they don’t have to live with her. She’s not that cool. She’s kinda bossy. But she laughs a lot and she plays lots of tricks on us. She almost made my brother pee his pants once by scaring him and pretending to be a bear out in the bush when we were sleeping in our tent. That was pretty funny.

She doesn’t like it when we play practical jokes on her though. She scares really easy and we always like to see who can make her squeal the loudest. she keeps telling us we are giving her gray hairs. I can’t see them though.

She is a bit of a sissy though. She doesn’t like it when we catch frogs and last week she said we could catch a snake and keep it as a pet but when we did she squealed and then told us to go put it back where we found it. She told us she only said we could have it because she didn’t think we’d find one. She also makes me and my brother pick up dead birds on the ground. We get a lot of those cause they fly into our decks and our windows. She says it’s too disgusting to deal with so she makes us do it. She claims it will toughen us up.

She says alot of things like that. I think we’re pretty tough kids already without having to do chores or pick up dead things.

I think it’s really cool that you all read my mom. I think you would all really like her if you ever met her. She laughs a lot and she is really fun to be around. Dad said that’s why he married her. but he also says he married her because grampa made him do it so I don’t really know. I’m jut glad she’s my mom.

If there was one thing I could change about her though it would be that she wasn’t so strict. She doesn’t let us play a lot of video games and we hardly get to watch television. She says she watched too much television as a child and it stunted her growth. I just think that’s the type of things she says wehn she wants to be left alone and get us out of the house so she can blog in quiet. She says she can’t think and write with noise and me and my brother are noisy breathers. She’s dorky like that.

That’s all I have to say right now. Thanks for listening. And thanks mom, for letting me use your blog. I can’t wait to get my own.

Then I can tell everyone I’m an internet porn star, just like you tell people.

I love you, Mom.

***I love you too, doll face. But you are wrong. I am that cool. You’re just too young to know it. Now go clean your bedroom before I go all medieval on your arse.***