“I DO NOT GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS JOB!” I exclaim as I get up from my makeshift office at the dining room table.

That’s how powerful I am, no real office, just a portable laptop. Only the size of my “desk” seems ominous except I sit at the corner of the table instead of the center.  However, I do sound important when I say, “I have a corner office.”  I could feel more presidential if I pushed a chair out of the way and worked from the center, like the big desk in Oval Office.  My office is square but I could pretend.  The work I do is hugely important, though. I could make entire worlds crumble if I quit.

My Corner Office.

My Corner Office.

My husband and son are in the kitchen next to the dining room, I walk in to speak my piece.

 

“I’ve just spent two hours organizing everyone’s schedule! You see those four piles of papers stuck to the refrigerator with mega-strength magnets? Those are schedules for ONE kid. ONE! And it doesn’t include the doctor or dentist appointments I just rearranged over the phone.” I state this with immense drama and volume for the whole town to hear, as if we stood in the town square.

NEED ALL!

And it could all change…..

Being in the kitchen is kind of like being in the center of town, the meeting spot. I make many decrees from this room, as the kitchen is my second office, the easiest place to find me I think. Others in the house might say my bedroom even if they can’t see me behind the closed door. It seems I’m always changing my clothes then and they know I’m there. Impeccable timing.

People could literally starve if I quit my kitchen job. Just getting food on the table is not enough. Leftovers must be planned into the mix for sandwiches the next day, so ham sandwich after ham sandwich won’t lead to a riot. I make AT LEAST 360 sandwiches a year, aiming to create variety and balanced nutrition. God I am powerful. I could implement a food embargo if I felt the need.

The only comment I get from the guys from my explosive “I AM SO ORGANIZED” moment, are mumbling yeses and ohs as they seem too mesmerized by my words, staring at the stacks of papers adhered to the refrigerator as if they might move or perform some amazing trick because of my super scheduling powers.

Actually, I think they didn’t want to look at me for fear I might lay into them about how I do everything. Sometimes it does feel like everything and I mean it. Moms know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

There is an expression from the 40s “Behind every GREAT Man is a Great Woman.”  I always thought it was attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt when her husband was too ill; she took part in some big decisions.  I don’t know if that really happened but the saying has a lot of truth.  I think it translates to kids and moms too.  “Behind every Great kid is a GREAT mom.”

Moms work magic, making life seamless.  We want our kids to be great because we love them and it’s our job. Sometimes, realizing how much power we hold is kind of mind-boggling when you put it in world leader terms: crumbling worlds and food embargoes. Of course I wouldn’t really change anything like starve my children, let their teeth rot or skip sports. But sometimes I just have to take a moment to toot my own horn like I’m The Donald or Muhammad Ali.  Lest anyone in the house forget who is behind them.

“I AM THE GREATEST!”

Moms can say that sometimes.

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