Haha, Lady Gaga.

Yesterday at Tae Kwon Do class (the kids’, not mine), I happened to sit by a lady who also has two boys a little bit younger than mine. This TKD class, twice a week, is actually like a mini-vacation for me because both boys are enrolled in the same class and I get to sit it out on the sidelines for one full hour. (Like I said before, this is a big deal after YEARS of singing and clapping like a maniac at baby Gymboree.) This lady I was sitting next to hasn’t got that lucky yet — her littlest one sat in her lap playing on an electronic gadget while her oldest sparred. Whatever game he was playing obviously did not hold much interest because he fidgeted, “mommy”ed her about 24 times a minute, swung by her neck like a baboon, cartwheeled into the arena. I felt her increasing exasperation as a real taste in my mouth, along with the sweet tinge of freedom well earned. At the end of class, she wearily peeled herself off the carpet and said, ‘Well, after all that I hope my maid will have cleaned the house and dinner will be ready!” I replied, “If you close your eyes, at least you can imagine it is.” She said, “Yeah, like Lady Gaga.” I laughed, “More like Lady Haha!” And we both cracked up šŸ™‚

So, you see, while Lady G gets to have a single, kidless, probably glamorous Valentine’s Day that features Victoria’s Secret in one way or another, most of us Lady Hs will still have poopy bums to wipe, fake boo boos to kiss, cookie crumbs to sweep off the floor before the baby gags on them and a special(ish) dinner to prepare because all the restaurants are so freaking littered with people it’s not worth it. And while her various body piercings may garner some personal attention from her loved one, our midsection-beyond-hope won’t be any lesser for having enjoyed a whole tub of Ben & Jerry’s at the end of the evening.

Happy Valentine’s, my fellow Lady Hahas. šŸ™‚

If you’re gonna do it, may as well laugh šŸ™‚
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