To The Mothers

Happy Sleep 14 Extra Minutes Day!

Happy Your Husband Can’t Bitch About Brunch Day!

Happy Fuck Your Laundry Day!

Happy Burnt Toast and Dandelion Day!

Happy Your Acknowledgement Is Over By 9:15am Day!

Happy Why Exactly Are We Taking a Hike Day!

Co-What?

I once worked with a woman who firmly held to the notion of co-parenting. She and her husband rotated 24 hour caregiving shifts, each transitioning every other day into active duty. Every ride to school, every packed lunch, every nocturnal disturbance was handled by the parent on call while the other went about their activities as planned. It seemed to me like eating at a restaurant at your own table beside a couple that you know. You may nod and acknowledge each other, but you keep your appetizers and tabs separate and try not to listen too closely to their conversation. Their schedule was so regimented that I found myself often fantasizing about the mayhem that would ensue should a crisis occur during the changing of the guard. Would they just pass the baton in the middle of the X-ray series at the hospital? She was equally baffled at the way my household was managed. So I forced myself to take note of the duties that my husband and I share with total equality. I was shocked by how many things we do together!

Then He Told Me I Was Special And Different.

I’ve spent a week considering whether I’d like to keep a tooth or have it pulled. There is good reason this sort of procedure is not included in the pages of women’s magazines dedicated to Uncovering Your Sexiest Self. In fact, peering into a mirror at contrived angles with your mouth stretched into an unnatural sphere to determine just how visible a dental void would be makes you feel like you are not even worthy of reading women’s magazines. You are no longer a woman who trifles with smokey eyeshadow and visible panty lines because you have more pressing concerns, like polishing the chambers of your rifle and eating baked beans directly from the can.

What I’d Like To Say…

Why do I have to eat slower?

Because there are 12 more hours till bedtime and I’ve got nothing else on this agenda.

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Why do I have to go to school?

What Have I Done?

I pushed open the plated glass doors, hoping against modern mechanics that they would slam behind me, the impact against the frame reverberating through the steel beams of the skyscraper. This was meant to be my last exit through that doorway, and I wanted to part with a little flair, a little panache, a little something other than the paperwork to extend my healthcare benefits. I hadn’t passed through those doors countless times. In fact, I had kept careful tally of the times I had come and gone. The job had been disastrous, every expectation a glaring opposition to my interests and abilities. But you have dental, my mother reminded me in a pitch achieved only by those who had spent years and years never having dental.