Martha Stewart is the original “mean girl” ... the woman countless over-achieving females worship from afar. She’s photo-op perfect whether feeding her range-free livestock or farming for truffles, running a global empire or hosting exquisite dinners. Seemingly impeccable, effortlessly precise, she oozes self-confidence while inadvertently trampling her foie gras-impaired sisters. Disciples of the Messiah of Multi-Taskers are identifiable by their “WWMD?” attitudes and glitter-tinged fingertips. I am not among them.

Yet again, the holidays tiptoed in on little commercial cat feet and arrived with their typical resounding thud of obligations, retail hysteria, anxiety and diet-busting temptations. Moms particularly bear the brunt of the gift-hunting, package-sending, company-receiving, non-stop baking, card-addressing, timely-RSVPing, classroom-volunteering, recital-watching season. This is hardly a newsflash.

Fact: Parents worry. It’s part of the job description. Worrying about everything from their children’s hair and hem lengths to matters of heart and mind, life and death, parents have been pacing since Adam and Eve fretted over sibling rivalry.

We all have these “things.”  You know, the “things” we pick up through osmosis during our youth, simply by growing up with our parents. I don’t mean genetic things like thunder thighs or premature graying, but things that automatically, quietly stick to us like sand on wet skin.

“OK, I’ll drive,” slurs an inebriated teen, anxious to make curfew after a night furtively drinking with buddies.

“OK, just this once,” whispers a recklessly insecure eighth-grader to her impatient and promiscuous boyfriend.

“OK” is the sound of an undeveloped life spontaneously combusting, as a pipe packed with poison and synthetic feelings passes from one young hand to another.

Knocking off the long-reigning “Whatever!” from its top spot on my “Obnoxious Adolescent Expressions” list is the newly inducted, passive-aggressive, “Just kidding!” Right now, a Merriam-Webster American Slang editor is monitoring its usage in anticipation of adding “jk” (text message shorthand) someplace between the equally profound “jive turkey” and “Just Say No.”

Dinnertime. Hartley House. Earlier this week.

Hayden: Daddy, can I have my juice?

Daddy: Sure, here you go.

Daddy hands Hayden his drink. Hayden reaches out to grab it, his hand making contact with the cup. Instead of grasping it, he accidentally hits it, and it flies — quite forcefully — across the table and onto the floor.

Daddy (looking at Mommy) says, “We’re definitely not ready to give up the sippy cup.”