Griffin has begun yelling “To da wescue! Me, Giffin!” and running off to save damsels in distress. His little face lights up with the absolute confidence that he is, in fact, capable of rescuing someone even though he cannot currently dress himself without help.
He pauses for effect, screws up his arms for maximum speed, and launches himself toward hero status.
I wanna be that cool. I don’t know who or what I want to rescue. I don’t know who or what I want to fight. I just know that I want that kind of purpose, that kind of righteous goal. I would LOVE to be a superhero.
I would wear a really bad-ass outfit that involves thigh-high boots and some kind of bustier. I am not well endowed so the bustier would need to be stuffed. Maybe with mini bags of M&Ms so it could double as a snack holder.
I would have rocker-chic cuffs and possibly a thigh holster or two. Think Lara Croft meets Wonder Woman with a touch of the comic Cathy (because of the M&Ms and my neuroses).
I’m not sure how I can translate this desire into stay-at-home momhood. I don’t know that the other moms volunteering at the elementary school would appreciate a bustier. Maybe if I wore a tennis dress that could pass as a superhero costume they would just think I was really into tennis.
Maybe I could take kickboxing classes and pretend I’m training for villain killing. Maybe I can carry around extra bottles of milk and goldfish crackers in my thigh holsters. Is there any way to add an element of necessary danger and still be a responsible parent? I’m looking for ideas.