So I got to thinking in my “Office” (pictured above) the other day about a Convention for Stay at Home Moms.  Annual Conventions are the only things that differentiate my old job from my new job.  Well, that, and coffee breaks.  Hot lunches.  Salary.  Benefits.  Intellectual discourse.  A shot at a promotion.  Pooping without company.  But I mean…other than that…

If I were to hold a Stay at Home Mom Annual Convention, it would be predictable.  We’d invite NASA to hold a panel discussion on why Sippy Cups turn Spilly.  You’ve read my rant on this issue before.  I’m sure the Organic Food and Green lobby would need a quarter of the showroom floor.  I’d go ahead and let Reynolds Wrap be the Primary Sponsor because I seem to have less MAD money these days to pay for things like…Conventions.  There would be demonstrations on the proper care of your griddle.  I’d have a book signing for my new book, “Why I Only Cook On Griddles, Volume I”.  When the attendees complain that the McDonald’s booth makes it look like I’m a big sell out…I’d say, “SHUT UP!  Hey, look at my new shoes!’

But those stressed out/up all night/haven’t taken a long shower in years Moms wouldn’t bitch for long.  Because at every booth would be a lovely array of jello shots and bags of Cooler Ranch Doritos.  I’d only allow 80’s music to play overhead.  Loudly.  Until we were all dancing drunk to “Friday I’m in Love” while jiggling our goody bags stuffed with Ivory Liquid and samples of Advil.

I’ll tell you who is NOT invited: those editors from “Parenting” and Martha Stewart.  I don’t need some stupid symposium about how to make commuting time into quality family time.  Everyone knows you pack survival supplies (juice boxes, cheese crackers, etc), keep the toy basket within reach, put on the Raffi and pray for light traffic.  “Parenting” magazine should be renamed, “Psycho Guilt Monthly”.  And Martha Stewart?  There is NO WAY that burlap bag is going to look anything like a Princess costume and I don’t care how many pipe cleaners I attach.  Even if I could afford 25 pumpkins (Hello!  They are sold by the pound!), WHERE would I find the time to carve them into a snake edging my front walk?  WHEN MARTHA?  OH GOD!  WHEN?

I’d do serious stuff too.  We’d have a poster session filled with meaningful research.  About the evils of juice I suppose (I’ll picket that one…which is weird because it’s my idea to hold the damned thing, but I want fair balance you know).

Then we’d load up our minivans and head on home.  There are noses to be wiped.  Dishes to be scrubbed.  Socks that need matching (just joking…those things are long gone baby…sucked up by a Universal Force I like to call THE SOCKBYSS).  And honestly, there is no place on earth we’d rather be.

I took this picture to document an event that will NEVER EVER occur again.  A clean kitchen counter.  The Haley’s Comet of the Stay at Home Mom.