Munchkins, Walkers And A Mother Hangover

Before I was somebody’s mother, I used to cover up the gray.  I used to get my hair blown out.   My make-up saw the light of day.  Happy hour wasn’t my daughter’s nightly nap.  Putting on lotion wasn’t a luxury.  My heels and skirts weren’t considered vintage.   Saturday, my single-for-a-day alter ego, Dirty Martini, came out to play.  She only makes rare appearances, once every six months to a year.  She knows when I really need her to appear. ...more
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