Lori Shaw-Cohen

Moms are supposed to have all the answers, or at least appear to their offspring as though they do.

You’re only as happy as your saddest child.” As the terminally trendy say, “Word.”

Once upon a simple-minded time, the start of school meant the usual commotion — shopping for supplies, setting alarm clocks, returning to busy schedules, etc. Then my youngest began middle school, and stockpiling highlighters and playing “beat the clock” with the school bus became the halcyon days.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Sure you are … again and again! Like parrots in sweatpants, moms repeat the same things to the same kids, time after time, day after day. Rouse any mom during a well-earned sleep, and she’ll automatically start spewing, “Leave your brother alone!” … “Take your finger out of your nose!” … “Will the parents be home?” before her eyes are open and her little genius can whisper, “Mom, are you up?”

Stanley Bernard Shaw lumbered into our lives when he was about 1 year old. Why my sister and dad invited him home to stay remains a mystery since they’ve admitted to being somewhat intimidated. Mom took one look at Stanley and shut the door. But I loved him instantly.

Before
• A neat home seemed important.
• Wardrobe accessories included over-the-shoulder spit-up towels and soggy cotton breast pads.
• Survival gear for rough nights included a rocking chair and Anbesol.
• Changing (high-level waste) diapers in public places and disposing of them discreetly required reconnaissance and alacrity.
• The future was imagined in childhood developmental stages.
• “MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!” rang through the house like a car alarm.

Before
• A neat home seemed important.
• Wardrobe accessories included over-the-shoulder spit-up towels and soggy cotton breast pads.
• Survival gear for rough nights included a rocking chair
and Anbesol.
• Changing (high-level waste) diapers in public places and disposing of them discreetly required reconnaissance and alacrity.
• The future was imagined in childhood developmental stages.
• “MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!” rang through the house like a car alarm.

It’s hard to get one over on Mom. Dads can be pushovers because they’re often excluded from 9-to-5 combat operations (read: kid drama), but moms have been presiding over daily family life since men left women cave-bound to hunt saber tooth tigers. And, like cavemen (and their Neanderthal attitudes), mothers have evolved through generations to ensure their species’ survival and help descendants better adapt to the environment.

Psychedelic flashback anyone? Attend a high school open house and let the good times roll … back! Trust a veteran’s opinion — 10 senior high open houses and counting! If it’s been awhile since you’ve pushed open the double doors to secondary learning, sauntered down the locker-lined halls and heard those infamous tardy bells, then prepare to enter a time warp.

Staying focused on the goal, not the arduous journey and uncertainty — that crippling unknowing — seemed impossible. Waiting to see my OB/GYN, surrounded by miraculously swollen tummies draped with open parenting periodicals and bored toddlers, I felt small and inadequate. My husband of three years held my hand protectively amid the human incubators. For us, there’d be no listening to the “glub glub” of a brand-new heartbeat, no exuberant exit waving fuzzy photos of sheer bliss. Not yet. Not ever, we thought during the darkest days.

This is the month when romance permeates the air and a Brink’s truck backs up to the Russell Stover estate. Couples buy into the red and pink frenzy, and retailers rejoice while singles ponder a heart-(and Hallmark-)less existence.