Confessions of a Professional Mom

Confessions of a Professional Mom

Professional mom seeking clarity, balance and a well deserved glass of wine.

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Attention K-Mart Shoppers

August 11, 2014 , , , , , , , , , ,

Attention Household DwellersAs a kid I loved going to K-Mart. (Later replace by my beloved Target.) So many “deals” in one big bright store and “the blue light of savings”.

We’d peruse the freshly waxed aisles and I’d beg for a big red bouncy ball or a super cool Goody® brush and hair barrets, only to hear my mother utter, “No”, about a thousand times…when suddenly, from some corner of the store, the blue light would start flashing and over the loud speaker you’d hear that now famous, “Attention K-Mart shoppers, blue light special in our Fabric Department…extra thick velour in a variety of colors on sale now for 99¢ a yard.”

Errrrrrrrr! Turn the cart around, we need some of that velour. “Mom, you haven’t even finished that sun dress you started for me two years ago.” That was of no importance. There was a deal to be had. There are tales of my Aunt Barb (mother of six) who could literally get from one corner of the store to the other and literally “close out” the blue light special. She was THAT good!

As I always say, funny how life comes full circle. I am convinced there is a similar mechanism in my house. Not necessarily a blue light and a geriatric yet perky announcer, but a silent sound, an alert that goes off whenever I am in the bathroom. It’s undetectable to the adult human ear. Only children and dogs can hear it. If it were audible it would sound something like this:

“Attention kids and pets, Mom has entered the bathroom—stop whatever you’re doing and get there now. She’s trying to have personal time. Interrupt! Interrupt!”

I could almost time it. The minute I walk into my bathroom, pull my pants down and descend onto the “thrown” I can look up and there, standing in front of me, will be a child or a dog. Poof! It’s like black magic. Maybe, as a child, my mother cast a dark spell over me to slowly, painfully make me pay for all the times I interrupted her bathroom time. It also happens the instant I get out of the shower. Mind you, my bathroom is small, so the additional body is an unwelcome addition. You’d think the site of my naked “mom” body would put an end to this invasion. Sadly, it does not.

Of all the things I know I’ll miss after the children are grown and gone, this is not one of them. I miss pooping solo. I miss plucking alone. I just want to be naked in my own bathroom, free to towel off without ridicule and mindless chatter. “Mom, why do your boobs hang?” “Mom, why is your stomach fat?” “Mom, can I go to Makenzie’s house?” “Mom, can you even believe what Becky said to me at school today…..?”


That is all!

Stay sane, my friends.



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