Okay, God, that's it.
Even I- former full-time performer,Clairol-tressed Alpha Woman of Substance/Mother Superior(LOL)/Coupon Clipper Extraordinaire- can't do it all. Could you? I wonder.
Even with juice cups,and Pull-Ups,and e-mail,and gigs,and a reliable sitter,there's still PMS...and dust, and action figures with multiple accessories' and wet sheets in the middle of the night. And not even Bill Gates has come up with a machine to handle bill-paying, menu-planning, job-keeping, house-cleaning, story-reading, eyebrow-tweezing, shirt-ironing, dog-walking, and libido-satisfying all at once.
I'd pray for a maid, but I can't afford one.
And a thirty-hour day's out of the question, too, I suppose? Fine.
Then how about fewer headaches,a small raise(or a big one would be great),nighttime bladder control, and a simple promise that, fifty years from now when I'm old and gray, my child will remember this and call me "Blessed?"
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