Bedtime Story
After the birth or her 5th child, she noticed the time and experience had begun to wear on her and she felt, well, quite less than desirable. She used to wake up and when she looked in the mirror she liked what she saw. Now, in order to achieve that sentiment she needed additional time to spritz, moisturize, conceal and emphasize.

So one day she was reading the second sentence of the same book she'd been trying to read for the past month. Was she slow, you ask? No, she was not slow. Dear reader, she was, a Mommy. Like so many women, she opted to have her children close together in order for them to grow up together and have a tight sibling bond. She never fathomed they would also band together in siblinghood against the dictatorship of the "Mommy." Anytime she attempted to read, sleep, organise, think or exercise her right to personal hygiene, they were there to disrupt it like a merry band of "down time" thieves. They were so very thorough that she began to believe they were union organised. She often found herself in the laundry, checking their little pockets for union dues slips.

She remembered cynically the days way back when she looked forward to children uttering that priceless word for the first time: "Mom-mee." Now the gross over usage of that phrase had practically become a curse word to her. 4 of her children now uttered, cried, screamed, laughed, coughed, choked "Mommy" on an average of 300 times a day each. She knew this on account of the fact that she took a day off from attempting to read the first sentence of her book in order to take a tally.

As her ears nearly bled from the constant pounding of that word, she had an idea. She could kill two kids with one stone, so to speak---hmm? Oh! Oh yes, you're right that is two BIRDS with one stone. Exactly. Honest mistake. Ahem! So like i was saying she had come up with a marvelous plan! She would change her name just in time for baby number 5 to learn rather than following in the footsteps of the others who shouted that dreaded obscenity at her minute after minute.

Two years passed and I had the pleasure of running, "Not-Mommy Anymore" in the grocerystore. And I asked how her plan worked out for her. Her coy smile said it all. While we continued our conversation her 5th child, now age 2 was feeling a bit left out. So he called out to his mother using the name he'd been taught shortly after his birth, "You're Pretty!" "I want juice." The woman smiled and continued to talk with me. "You're Pretty, buy cookies please!" The toddler began to get irritated by his mother's lack of attention. "YOU'RE PRETTY," shouted the child, drawing the attention of other shoppers. She then turned to him and gave him a great big hug, an 8pack of juice boxes and a family size box of Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies. And everyone lived happily ever aft--not so fast! A month later she was blessed with the news of a new baby on the way. I havn't seen her since.


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