Hot Dogs and Harsh Words: A Raw Take on Mom Culture

This is a story from several years ago that I actually do think about once in a while. It's from a time when my daughter was in daycare, and my husband and I (I more so) tried to connect with other parents and have playdates with the kids in daycare. A little.

#1 Hot Dog Hater

Once, I invited two of the moms with their kids to come over after daycare. I would prepare a small dinner or a little plate for all of the kids. My husband was not there. I don't even remember if he was busy or if he made an excuse to be busy so he could not be there, but that tracks.

Anyway, they came over to eat at our dinner table. I set out some healthy snacks, vegetables, and low-sugar juice boxes. The main entree was a food that my daughter and many kids really like, which we don't have often: hot dogs. They were all natural and not fake mystery meat. They were really good, natural British Columbian beef hot dogs. And even if they weren't, that would have been okay.

The kids were hapily eating the hot dogs, and one of the mothers said, "Oh, his dad would be so mad if he knew he was eating hot dogs." She said it in a way that wasn't a direct insult or criticism, but implied, "Haha, he would be so angry about you feeding him this shit." 

I was just like, "Oh, hahaha." Except in my head, I was like, "Oh, you're a dumb fucking cunt," because that’s a dumb thing to say. 

ALSO, this kid was a big kid. Really big. He looked like a professional wrestler at four years old. Clearly, they were not THAT discriminating in terms of what he eats or how much he's eating at home. And that's ok.

I feed him one fucking hot dog, and this mom had to make a comment when I graciously invited you into our home, took on the mental load, and the physical labour to make everybody food and snacks. How about thank you?

How To Get Uninvited to Playdates  

During that play date, my daughter had run into our bedroom because it was the one thing I fucking told her not to do. I said to her beforehand: no matter what, don't go into our bedroom, because that's where I hid all of our mess. 

If you've been following my blogs/podcast, you'll know I'm a messy person, and the best I can do when you come over is hide that mess in various places. That day, I hid the mess in my fucking bedroom. So I instructed my daughter not to go in there. As they were playing, my daughter did the one thing I fucking told her not to do — she ran into our bedroom, and then the other kids followed. I could have easily gotten the kids. I even said to the moms, "I'm going to get them."

But this mother, I know she was being fucking nosy, came in after me to get her child. NOT NECESSARY. Just wait a second, and I'll send your kid back out. But no, she had to come in, and she saw my mess, which, like itself, is fine, but I didn't want you in there. So she comes in, and then she looks around and she goes, "Oh, do you rent or own?" Which to me, is in the top three questions that, if you ask me and I don't know you very well, makes you really fucking boring and yucky. 

People in Vancouver cannot stop talking about real estate and compare financial situation. We've been asked this a lot by people, and I don't care, except if it brings you joy and passion, and then it's a fun conversation.

So that was the second red flag from this mom who came over that day, who has never come over again, by the way, and I've never given her son another hot dog or any other food, for that matter.

My main point is that I really detest this kind of, like, judgy shit that people say to each other, and when it comes to food and nutrition. For many people in Canada, particularly in Toronto and Vancouver, families are struggling right now. Although and I'm not saying I'm struggling, but please like and subscribe, because we want to monetize this podcast to keep it going. Also follow me at @juliekimcomedy. When I buy food, I make choices, just like many people. Life is more expensive, so you’re gonna criticize somebody for feeding your kid very good, natural hot dogs? Well, go fuck yourself.

Kids' Snacks I Feed My Child

Like many of us, I try to make the most of my budget and feed my kids whatever they will eat, since kids can often be very picky. That’s why I don’t judge other parents for their choices.

For instance, if their kid likes McDonald's, that's okay. McDonald's isn't great, but it's practical — whatever your child will eat and allows you to keep the peace and sanity. Once, I took my daughter and her friend to McDonald's on their way to camp because they needed to eat. It wasn't cheap. It was about $19 for two McChicken sandwiches with minimal substitutions (ok actually my kid gets three extra chicken patties because PROTEIN). And you know what? They were so happy. And I am the cool mom now. 

Here's a bunch of somewhat random snacks that we currently have in our pantry (I show them in the video podcast version). You can judge all the snacks all you want. Anyway, here are some snacks I have:

• Kellogg's Special K Nuts & Grain Dark Chocolate Chunks & Almonds from a green room. Although I haven't checked the macros on this, I will still give this to my child if she needs a snack before camp or school.

• OHME!, a BC-based company, offers healthy freeze-dried fruit snacks. It costs more than regular snacks, but guess what? We're eating these in rotation.

• Despite seaweed rolls (The Big Roll) turning into dust most of the time, I'll stick that in a lunchbox anytime.

• We've got these Costco granola bars that my daughter tried once and said she loved them. So, I bought a box, and then she said, "Oh, they're just okay." So I've got 36 of those.

• Chia squeeze packets are great when you want something sweet for your kid that's also high in fibre and low in sugar.

In our family, we're a nut-aware family, which means we are aware that we like nuts.

Organic Clothes versus a Winners Grandma

Here's another similar story: A friend shared with me that she met another mom of a newborn several years ago, and the mom said to her, “I just don't understand why you don't just get organic clothes for your kid." What kind of fucking moron says those words out loud! '

My daughter sometimes wears the opposite of organic clothes. Many of the clothes we receive are from my mom, my daughter's grandmother, who sends them through the mail since we don't live in the same city. 

My mom fucking loves Winners. She's a Winners whore, and I don't know if that's disrespectful, but I also don't think it's inaccurate. She fucking loves Winners. So once in a while, my parents will send a package through Canada Post, which contains a bunch of clothes. Can I get clothes for my child? Yes, but this is just something that my mom loves to do. Half of those clothes are actively flammable because Winners sells many dresses made from polyester. 

Another time, I opened a package and it had a cute little headband that you put on when you do skincare or wash your face. Except the actual label said, “may contain cancerous materials,” which I interpret as saying, “this is a fucking cancerous headband.” So I put the headband in a bag somewhere. Honestly, I don't know where it is now. Maybe I wrapped it up so tightly because I was worried about it leaching chemicals into our bodies, so I hid it safely away somewhere.

Both these stories demonstrate that life is a combination of good decisions, ideal decisions, and whatever is fucking convenient. 

So whatever you want to do for yourself, please go ahead and do it. If you ever invite me and my kid over and graciously and generously offer refreshments that my husband and I would disapprove of, I'm probably keeping my mouth shut. Just like what this bitch should have done in the first place — keep her fucking mouth shut.

How Not to Piss Off Your Parent Friends

For millennials' parents who grew up in the '90s or the '80s (earlier than that), people always say, "I ran out in the streets," or "We didn't lock our doors." Yet, when it comes to food, I was one of those people who ate the worst fucking food. My parents raised us above the convenience store that they ran. I ate out of cans, and most of the foods I ate were mostly preservatives. I'll have you know I fucking licked those cans afterwards, too. I mean, it wasn't a healthy lifestyle. 

With my daughter, my family is not doing anything close to that now, but I recognize it's a lot of pressure to feed your kid only the "good stuff." I would never fucking put that pressure on anybody else. If you're not interested in the available offerings at a party, playdate, or any other event, you can politely decline, or you consider bringing a snack. 

This woman didn't even contribute healthy snacks or say, "Oh, can I bring anything? Could I bring some fruit or some healthy sides?" Instead, she came empty-handed and claimed the kid's dad would hate it if he knew that their kid ate hot dogs. Is it ever a symbol that you can't just let your kid enjoy a fucking hot dog? For this person, the hot dog served as a symbol, a means to compare and belittle another person, and an expression of disapproval and misery. It's such a weird fucking thing to say out loud.

I don't want to sound extremist, but an attack on hot dogs is an attack on America. No, I'm just kidding, but hot dogs are just food, right? Hot dogs are a nostalgic part of childhood, and what kid doesn't like a hot dog? When you go to a ball game, you usually get a hot dog. You're on the street late at night after clubbing, and you eat a fucking hot dog.

That's all I'll say because it's not nice to say anything more than that.

Don't Be a Bun 

In closing, I think this situation could have been handled very differently. There are several things that this woman could have said. She could have said nothing, which would have been perfect. Or say, "Oh, my son is allergic to hot dogs," but because the kid was little, he would've rebutted, "No, I'm not." 

Since this incident, I have found out she's very fucking boring and unhappy. She's the equivalent of a plain bun. She's the person who would go to a barbecue and decline all of the delicious, salty, delicious food and beer and say, "I'll just have a white bun." Don’t be the white bun.