Happy Mother’s Day, Super Moms!

Super Powers every Momma has:

1.) Super Human Strength- You can carry a toddler on your hip with a diaper bag and groceries up a flight of stairs to your home. If that’s not super human strength, I don’t know what is! Those heavy weight champs would have quite a competition if they were up against moms. 

2.) Mind Control- With just a glance you can have your tiny human, husband, and even your dog be on their best behavior or complete a given task for you. I’m still working on this power… It might be that it is just not be in my wheel house

3.) The Power to Steal Time- You have a house guest that wants to play with your adorable kiddo? Perfect. You whisk out of the room, take a quick bathroom break and put a load of laundry in. Then while chit chatting you can declutter the room your in, and they probably won’t even notice. A nap time session can get you a prepped dinner, clean dishes, a chance to check your e-mail, and maybe if you’re lucky even 20 minutes of trashy TV. 

3.) Super-Sonic Hearing- We can hear a quiet baby cry even though you’re in a room so loud that you can’t hear yourself think. Your super-sonic hearing kicks in best at night, if your tiny human makes so much of a whisper, you’re awakened out of a dead sleep. 

4.) Deciphering Codes- Every super mom quickly learns how to decode secret languages. Your tiny human utters a whine, and you know that he wants a drink immediately. You know from just one quick cry that your he has another burp stuck in his tummy. Everyone else thinks you’re weird, but you just know. 

5.) Amazing Healing- We’re just now really developing this power and it is AWESOME! A quick kiss on a boo boo or hug in a tantrum can solve all the world’s problems.



Comment below with more super powers!

A Mother’s Prayer for Her Child

Happy Mother’s Day!  I’m sure one day when I become a Mother, not just a Doggie Mom, I will recite this often.  I also have no doubt that my Mom said some of these things under her breath from time to time as I was growing up.

Enjoy A Mother’s Prayer for Her Child.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her, when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.  Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My Mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.


-Tina Fey

Me and my Mom circa 1985