One of my most vivid memories of my mother, and the one that haunts me the most, is the day when I, as an omnipotent, know-it-all 17 year-old, said that I’d “never be JUST a housewife” like her. She slapped me right across the face (as well she should have) and told me that any sacrifices she made, were made for me and my brother and that she was happy to do it. There’s not a day that has gone by in the last 11 years in which I haven’t regretted my stupid, spiteful words.
I’d prefer not to begin this blog with an unbearably sad entry, but today is the anniversary of my mom’s death and a wise friend suggested I honor her by making this my first blog post. It seems only fitting since the overriding purpose for this blog is to give you a bird’s eye view of my attempt to claw my way back up the cliff that once was my career. That was, of course, before I went on permanent sabbatical to become, yes, “just a housewife” and stay-at-home mom to my smart, adorable, infuriating daughters, aged 5 and 7, who already bear more than a passing resemblance to that smart-ass 17 year-old.
I promise we’ll have lots of laughs along the way. In my family, we have a long history of using humor to help deal with life’s twists and turns. In fact, my sweet mother would be laughing her ass off if she could see me now! (As well she should.)