Have you ever sprinted into a gas station carrying a toddler as if you were a contestant on The Amazing Race? Was your shirt bunched up, exposing your less than toned belly? Was the toddler you were carrying yelling, “Hurry, hurry?” Then, before you even stepped foot in the bathroom she sighed and declared, “Too late.” It was apparently your fault for going around the shelf of pork rinds and Hot Fries instead of taking it like Lolo Jones. In fact, you should’ve broken through the glass entrance rather than open it. It’s also your fault there isn’t a bathroom near the cow pasture or corn fields. Did you spend…

Being a mom means you are “in the weeds” 90% of the day. I’m not talking about the dangerous Hogweed newscasters warn you about year after year. Nothing is scarier than a reporter without a story idea. That is when you get the annual pothole, overgrown grass or Hogweed stories. Depending on who wrote the script Hogweed can be a small nuisance or Godzilla. I wasn’t in actual weeds. It’s a term used in the restaurant industry when you are so busy that you fall behind. A bleach blonde hostess, who can barely count to ten let alone divide customers, is usually to blame. My career as a waitress ended…