I got my cut a few months back on my birthday. It was just time. Tiny little hands kept tangling themselves into my hair, pulling for all they were worth.
I never had time to fix it, it was always a stringy mess. And the postpartum hairloss was insane. So I went to the salon and had it all cut off.
As I was leaving the stylist remarked "that's a mom do." A mom do? Do I have a mom do? Do I have mom hair?
You know what? We all have something that let's people know we're a mom when we're not with the kids. Maybe it's a minivan, dark circle under our eyes or a bob hair cut.
Embrace it, ladies. It's a badge of honor.
My grandmother once told me a really funny story about a time when she was young and a new cook. She made so much rice that in order to conceal her embarrassment from my grandfather, she buried the rice in the backyard.
Cooking disasters are not uncommon. They are much like the disasters that happen in our own lives, often when we are ill prepared it leads to an outcome that is unpleasant.