I need a Mild-Mannered Alter-Ego, Too.

My club needs a better name.

It started out as The Psychotic Working Mom’s League of Unattainable Perfection. It has a nice ring to it, has lots of syllables. (I always feel smart when I can rattle off things with lots of syllables without stumbling or sounding like the Swedish Chef.) It’s also semantically dead-on in describing the club’s charter, which is: a society to further the irrational and often clinically hyperactive imperatives of mothers with careers for which they are often required to wear painful footwear who knowingly set unreachable standards for themselves because setting goals in line with the functioning of normal mere mortals leaves them feeling as if they will get snarky comments from imaginary teachers on report cards they have long since ceased to receive.

You should see the mission statement.

But it breaks down at the acronym. PWMLUP? No. You can’t turn that into anything interesting. At best it suggests “PinUp,” and despite the fact that that theme may go with the shoes, this is a family blog, I don’t write the blog that that particular acronym goes with. Yet.

No, I need something else. The Working Moms Society of Goals Beyond Humans. Or, WMSGPH. No, that doesn’t do anything for me either. It sounds like a local public television station. It also omits the critical element of emotional imbalance present in the original. I think we can agree that this group needs validation of the tenuousness of their grasp on reality. We really need language that legitimizes our belief in the importance,  the critical importance, of freshly pressed, spring green, linen napkins. (That we buy especially for, say, Easter dinner because they complement the Meyer lemon crepe cake.)

I think it’s fair to say that the “Psychotic” element needs to stay.

Hand-made. Just for me. I come from a long nerd-tradition.

Mothers Fighting Neuroses While Pursuing SuperHuman Expectations. That turns into: MFNWPSHE. And then I see….MuffinWhiplash. Which 1) makes me hungry, and 2) makes me worry about eating while driving.

This may be an appropriate time to confess that I’ve never been very good at this sort of thing.

Workforce Moms for the Advancement of Emotional Disequilibrium and Unreasonable Standards for Homemaking. Or, WMAEDUSH. Well that’s just ridiculous. We don’t even have those in this part of the world.

It appears that for the moment, we will continue to be known as the Psychotic Working Moms League of Unattainable Perfection until a more acronym-friendly replacement can be found. But we will continue to further the cause, shoulder to shoulder with our sleep deprived sisters. Marching steadfastly forward while wearing shoes that are only comfortable until we bear weight through our legs, soaring high until we smack our faces on the glass ceiling that no one thought to put those little reflective decals upon. Dreaming of homes of perfectly proportioned, dirt-resistant fine silk furnishing and hands that can chop, dice, slice, julienne, saute and simmer all at the same time. And did I mention that we all manage to look like Heidi Klum while we do this? This, my friends, is the benefit of charter membership.

And if you have any thoughts, let me know. I’m holding off on ordering the secret decoder rings until I’m more confident about the name. Because ordering mis-monogrammed jewelry Will. Not. Do.


  1. I’ve been sitting here for no less than 10 minutes trying to tap into my wonder twin powers so I can swoop in to save the day. Unfortunately, all I’ve got is WHIPPED (Women Hotly In Pursuit of Perfection Every Day). An apt acronym for my state of being at the end of any given day, but not necessarily the message we want plastered across the back of matching club capes. Darn. Foiled again. (Great blog, Lori!)

      1. Martha would undoutedly recommend something practical and waterproof, with a low heel. I on the other hand, really like your idea of channeling our inner Heidi Klum and going with something red hot and high-heeled. Put me on your list for one of those rings, girl!

    1. I believe any heightened psychosis that accompanies parenthood and excessive responsibility counts.

      So don’t worry – you totally get to be in the “tacky jewelry” club!

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