Momologue

Momologue - When a mother goes on and on about her kid like no one else has children, and monopolizes the entire conversation even though no one cares.

We've all been there, right? If a group of women get together, there's always one woman who momologues.

"Preston is just so advanced! Preston is off the growth charts! Preston crapped his diaper and it leaked all over me and stunk like death...but oh-my-gosh, I felt so honored to be in the presence of Preston's poop!" (apologies to anyone with a son named Preston. It's just the first one I pulled out of my head)

First you're polite...then you're bored...then you're freaking annoyed and want to scream, "SHUT UP, RALPHIE!"

(If I were an old man, I'd totally be that guy. But we all knew that, right?)

Why can't we all have basic social skills? Can't we preface our bragging with a simple, "I know everyone thinks their baby is wonderful, but..."? Don't the momologuers have enough common sense to realize that their friend is not making eye contact anymore and if they listened hard enough they could hear her mental mantra of "Shut it. Shuuuttt. It. Oh, I freaking hate you. Someone save me."


How about the mom who always finds a way to jam one her kid's "hilarious" anecdotes into the conversation? "Madison said the cutest thing yesterday! We were out at blah, blah, blah,......blah.....blah.....blah, blah...and she called him a poopy-head! Har-har-har! And then a few weeks ago she said..."

And what is up with the women who are dying to share their Birth Story over chips and salsa at a party? Ummm...I'm not TLC, and frankly, I don't care. I went through labor, too, remember? That kid running around didn't spring from my forehead--my vajayjay is just as beat to crap as yours, Wonder Woman.

I know new moms deserve some extra special attention, and they have to talk about it. Labor post-traumatic stress is only cured by spilling all the gory details to your friends. I get that. I listen. I care. I encourage the new mom to bore (and horrify) me. But if the kid is tottering around the room, it's time to move on. Find a new topic of conversation. Get a hobby. Or at least squeeze out another one and get a new birth story to share.

The moral of the story is: YOU are the only person who is absolutely fascinated by your kid. (Remember that. Repeat it to yourself like a mantra next time you're out in public.) One or two funny/scary/weird/stupid stories starring Precious and that's it. You max out everyone's annoyance limit, and someone will punch you in the face.

Eventually.

And it might just be me.