The Three "Ds"

Dressing. Dieting. Decorating.

Life in the burbs for the mommy. In addition to the full-time, finely crafted development of my budding citizens, I had better find a way to carve out time for the above mentioned vocations/ pastimes/obsessions. 'Cause otherwise...well...it's a problem. I can't really put my finger on why it's a problem. But trust me, it just is.

Shortly after sun rise, all of the testosterone vanishes in this town and we women mobilize. It's an all girls' school for grown-ups, minus the nuns to keep things in check.

Those of us who don't actually receive a paycheck for our work have all kinds of expectations placed upon us. Many are stated; most are not. We know we have to raise our kids well. Got it. Apparently, however, I must have missed the memo that tells us SAHMs that we better not just throw on any old thing . If you're wearing sweats, they had better be coordinated and fashionable. You know...of the "Juicy" variety (gag). And if you're overweight, it is first assumed that you are the nanny, not the mom. After all, a good mom would not let herself "go" like that. And when you have that playdate, your house should be immaculate and tastefully decorated. All in effort to win approval of the equally beleaguered yet peppy mom who will stay for all of 9.8 seconds as she whisks off to yet another playdate, another soccer game, another dance practice. Ad infinitum.

OK...maybe you've just caught me on a bad day and maybe I'm projecting. Totally and completely possible. And I love my little town. Heaven help anyone who dare criticize it. It's just that I've always claimed that we women are way hard on each other. And I happen to live in a town where most of the women are around during the day. I would hazzard to guess that I have it better than some other SAHMs. God help me if we still lived in that other western suburb (starts with an H, ends with an E and has I-N-S-D-A-L in the middle). In that case, my three Ds would become four--desperation would be added to the list.

Oops I have to go. Pick out the perfect outfit, get on the treadmill, and reevaluate my throw pillow choices.

Whatever.