Dearest P,
I entirely sympathize with your plight but must take issue with your characterization as I may, perhaps, fall firmly into the category of the mother you describe. But not on behalf of my children. Rather than wasting ambition on my young, I find myself attempting connections just for me. Actually find it rather difficult to disparage those who are paying attention in a meaningful way to their offspring and not just dipping a toe when the mood suits, as I have no idea how they have either the attention span or endurance it requires.
Since you know I am loathe to sling arrows, I will confess my own indiscretion just today: rather than take the opportunity to attend youngest cherub's ice cream party, I enjoyed a little self-pleasuring. You guessed it, I went shoe shopping. And believe me, I truly treasure the opportunity to show same child the new pair of heels that have transformed her mother's life: all black, all heel and the ones that make mama feel like a million bucks.
Now, having told on myself, I fully own the possibility that other mothers, present for the hot sticky teacher thanking morass they dutifully call "quality time," deserve to be the favorites of nearly everyone in the universe. As I have occasionally done such duty, I'd like to be regarded as a hero (but how many women ever are, really?)
Even so, I would not give up one single second of my day to be so designated. Frankly, dearest P, what have any other mothers, or their teachers, done for me lately? On the hand, I can only begin to describe how much I love those shoes and, more to the point, what I imagine could begin to be done in them...I know my daughter will, one day, fully approve. At least a mother like me can hope for it.
C.
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