A person skilled in Mom-Ninjutsu.

My first day of “Retirement/Intended Unemployment/Housewifery (I love how this is pronounced, Whiff-er-ee) etc. I began by waking the boys and getting them breakfast. I offered them a menu of eggs bacon and toast. But because it is the next to last day of school they revolted and began lighting torches and chanted, POP TARTS POP TARTS.

Sure thing. I didn’t want to cook you ingrates a good breakfast anyway. Gave my youngest the paper plates, plastic cups spoons forks, and sprinkles that he needed for his bizarro end of the year part. Sprinkles?? JUST sprinkles? Whatever. I pictured a large room of 8 year olds doing shots of sprinkles, toasting the end of their 2nd grade year. 


Got them off to school, went back into my house and serenaded my cat to “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips because I watched Bridesmaids last night and frankly I was rocking that shit.

Ten minutes later, phone rings.

“I need pants.”

“Don’t we all son.”

“No, I can’t do 5th grade graduation in my khaki shorts.”

Sigh. “I am on my way”

I ran into my room, threw on something ill-fitting, because that was all I could find, and I fell so hard off the diet wagon the bruises still haven’t healed.

Threw make up on top of old make up, ew. And ran out the door, with size 14 boys jeans slung over my shoulder.

Hi, I am here to embarrass my son, can you direct me to him?

I arrive to 5th grade graduation one hour early, NO SEATS in the cafeteria. Seriously parents?!? I stand, bad hip and all. No AC. A person fainted in front of me.  That was a first. Ambulance arrived, and then here come the kids.  One hour later we are half way through then they began to re-heat something that smelled like potted meat and plant food.

End of ceremony commences, and I run out of there like I am on fire.

With the morning still young, I head to the grocery store and ran into an old acquaintance, and then this happened,

“HEY!!” She yelled smiling.   Her eyes scroll down, then she puts her hand on my stomach and says, “Aw, I didn’t know you were Pregnant!!”


I smile, “I am not pregnant, just bloated and KNEW I shouldn’t wear this shirt.”


We part, and I wave the proverbial white flag on being a Minja or surviving this day unscathed. This new world I am going into, this crazy new chapter, my own personal Narnia, may not have started off as well as I had hoped. 

I got into my car, said a small prayer that tomorrow would be better, then cranked up the Neil Diamond and sang at the top of my lungs, Sweeeeeeeeeet Caroline.  BA BA BA… because frankly there is nothing Neil can’t fix.

Always tomorrow,

Woman on Pause

4 thoughts on “Minja

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