Do you ever feel ignored and inconsequential by your offspring?
Do you find yourself muttering under your breath,
Hello? Why do I bother talking at all?
Do you find yourself wondering if perhaps you are Bruce Willis’ character in The Sixth Sense and have been dead for a while now, and just haven’t accepted the fact?
Do I have a plan for you! Not really, no. But you can try what I tried one day…
I ran away.
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Women have something in them that fools them into thinking they are Super Woman. Well, for me it’s Wonder Woman (I even had the Underoos to prove it. And the aluminum foil bracelets. And the crown). So, when I get sick, I live in total denial for several days.
“I’m fine,” I croak, crankily.
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“Are you Mom enough?”
The title was almost more jarring than the photo that accompanied it: a young, beautiful mom breast feeding her nearly four year old, on the over of Time, 2012.
Am I Mom enough? I wondered, while inwardly the contents of my bra were wincing in a painful sympathetic reaction. Read more
I have given something a lot of thought lately: mommies the world over would be excellent in espionage.
I think the C.I.A. should hire us, and I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of submitting one large resume on behalf of moms everywhere.
Of course, we’ll have to have Spy Names, like Scully, or Agent 99, or Bond … James Bond – something like that. Give it some thought. Seeing as how once upon a time, approximately three hundred years ago, I was a ballerina, I’ve decided to be Tutu. I’ll have a pointe shoe phone.
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So I’m used to getting evil looks from other mommies in the park. I know why they’re annoyed with me, I really do, but let me ‘splain.
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