Have you seen the commercial for the kid's allergy medication? Two women are sitting in a park on a play date when one child runs up, sneezes, and both women, like gun slingers, pull out their emergency mommy medication. One mother has an oozing bag of mangled medications. The other mother pulls out her handy dandy pre-filled dose of medication and administers it to Junior and never misses a beat. Messy bag woman cowers in shame. Quick-dose mom flashes a condescending smile of victory. Freeze the frame right here because I have a problem with this whole scenario. First of all, find me a park where children are frolicking and skipping to the tune of laughing mothers. Last park I went to, one kid pee'd on the slide, another bit his sister in the face, somebody found a hypodermic needle in the sand box, and my car got spray painted with gang graffiti before I even turned off the engine. And it's not just moms anymore. I saw two dads, a grandparent, a babysitter, a kid who was thrown out the door of a station wagon as the parents 'roll through', another who I'm pretty sure lives there, and one man in slippers shuffling through the parking lot talking to himself. And who even has time for play dates anymore? I'm busy. My kid gets play dates in line at the DMV.

The TV moms are immaculately dressed. No wrinkles, no stains. Right now I'm wearing a t-shirt with crusted peanut butter and matching sweats that I've been wearing since Tuesday. I once went a whole day with a sucker stuck to the side of my head before anybody told me. The TV moms are chatting happily. Wrong. Sara's telling Sue about how lazy her husband is; while Bertha (who just slipped vodka into her water bottle) is complaining about how far her butt has dropped to Erma who can't hear her because she's too busy spanking her kid in the parking lot. The commercial mothers are always deep in conversation while their kids are playing out on the horizon. Hello! Do you watch Law and Order? My child once disappeared behind a bush for a second and I started screaming, clawing at my sweater, and profiling the other moms. And what's up with the kid who comes up to his mother to sneeze? Please. My son can be bleeding out his eyes and he won't stop digging to come get help. Commercial mom whips out her bag of medications. We went on vacation and I forgot Junior's inhaler. She reaches into her purse and locates the bag of medicine immediately. I once went into my purse for a band aid dug up four half-eaten candy bars, a pair of underwear, and a dead gerbil. No band aid.

Commercial kid takes his medication with a smile. I have to wrestle my kid to the ground, hold his nose, and threaten to take away Christmas if he doesn't take it. Commercial kid smiles and gives a cute toothless thank-you while my kid seeks vengeance with a magic marker on the living room wall. Then Patty Perfect gives Susie Slack a condescending smile of victory. Well, I must admit, that one is pretty much on target. I've met Patty Perfect before. She's the one who frowns when I bring chocolate when it's my turn for preschool snack. When I put diet coke in his sippy cup. When I breastfeed at the salad bar.

Yeah - all that from a commercial. I'll probably still buy it anyway. It does look cool. I'm sure it will cost three times as much, I'll leave it at home, and my kid still won't take it. So maybe the commercial wins after all. But I won't let them tell me what normal mothers look like. Or what beautiful looks like either. Or success. Or happiness. What do they know?