momness is terminal

“Once you’re infected with the Momness disease, there is no cure.”

That’s what my daughter said as we folded towels. Momness, a disease sweeping the globe since Eve laid eyes on Adam.

Back then, moms had spick-and-span homes because we knew all the kids in the neighborhood. We rode bikes and skateboards. We walked to the neighborhood candy store with a friend down a busy road and walked back and ate our candy outside while our moms mopped the floors.


Now, moms do everything with their kids. We take them to the pool, the park and the megastore because there are no neighborhood candy stores anymore. We’re lucky if we even know our neighbors. If they have kids the same age playing outside, which is rare, we feel like we’re intruding on their quality family time since the parents are right out there with them.


So our houses aren’t as clean as our moms’ abodes because our kids don’t get outside. We can’t zone in and focus on our tasks for that day. The floor goes without mopping and the furniture goes without dusting.


Public schools are not up to par, so we choose charter schools or homeschooling so we take responsiblity for our kids’ education in addition to supervising them.


TV ads petrify us of intruders bursting into our homes in the middle of the day if we don’t security systems. So our doors are never open. Our kids stay inside and play video games while we finish our tasks, and even then we can’t allow them too much of that lest they roll down Obese Lane.


As weird as this may seem, I wouldn’t have it either way. As Billy Joel sang, “The good ol’ days weren’t all that good and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” I know where my kids are, what they’re studying and how precious are those rare moments! Stuff like reading a book with them in the middle of the day or watching an age-appropriate news program and discussing what we’ve seen.


Momness, there really is no cure.

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