I am a good mom.
I know this for a fact because my daughter is alive, and it's been more than 15 months.
But there is a menace out there, lurking in the shadowy corners of every "good mom's" mind. This freakish character walks among all of us, slyly sapping us of our strength and self-esteem.
That's right the "super mom."
Oh, don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about. These super moms are on a self-appointed mission to make us average moms want to sit in a corner and suck a binkie until we crumble into dust.
Now if you are not sure if you are a super mom (which, by the way, is the No. 1 clue that you are not), then here are several key signs just to be sure. A super mom always:
1. Makes her own baby food, clothes and blankets from scratch. She spends hours boiling, pureeing and freezing delicacies such as spinach and split peas in ice trays in her freezer, all while sewing matching sundresses for her and her daughter.
2. Gets up at least an hour before her children so she can run three miles, meditate and write journal entries for each of her children.
3. Never has food flecks on her clothes, hair or body. In fact, she is always dressed with make-up and well-coiffed hair by 7 a.m. Her clothes actually contain some type of spit-up repellent.
4. Has the perfect card and gift for every birthday, holiday (including Flag day), baby blessing, baby shower, bridal shower, wedding, divorce, birth, death and anniversary of a mole removal.
If you're still not sure if you are a super mom, here is the final and foolproof test: A super mom always looks bewildered when you say that your sex life has dwindled after having a baby.
Now I'm not saying these super moms are inherently evil, but they are really making the rest of us look and feel bad.
Fate often lands me behind one of these ladies in the grocery store so customers can get a side-by-side comparison. It's the universe's way of kicking me when I'm down.
It doesn't help that the super mom's baby's Osh-Kosh jumper reeks of starch, while my baby's post-nap hair is kinked into a ball, and her stretchy pants are a size too small. Inevitably, these super moms will shoot me a look of disdain when my daughter reaches to touch the super baby with her hand, which is shellacked in a mixture of spit and peach baby food. I know the super mom can just sense those peaches were not pureed at home, and I want to curl up and hide.
So, please super moms, give us a break. Sleep in once in a while. Live on the edge and skip the eyeliner one morning. It's really not that much to ask.
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