I have always thought blue blood coursed through my veins. I strongly suspected that a tiara rested on the regal heads of my female ancestors. I considered the possibility that my pedigree, somehow lost in the royal shuffle, had the noble family crest imprinted at the bottom….(in fine print)…for all to see…(provided they have a magnifying glass).
And, now I know it’s true.
When I enter a room, music plays.
“Can you tell me how to get
How to get to Sesame Streeeeet.”
All occupants of the room rise upon my arrival.
“Pick me up! Pick me up!! Mommmy! Mooooooommy!”
When there is a crisis, I am always the first to be beckoned.
“He BROKE my dolly!!! Cooper is roping my princess vanity! Carter just wore his boots in the pool! AHHHHH!”
I have a full wait staff.
“Ahh…So, yeah…hon, can ya pick up a pizza? and while you're out..another case of beer....bottles this time.”
My ladies in waiting circle when I call…
“We're headed to dirty G's....but oh...I forgot....Yeah! Ya better pick up those Cheerios, Missy!”
I live in a prestigious palace…
“I don’t know how we fit all these toys in this crackerjack box of a house !”
…surrounded by sprawling grounds.
“Babe, is that some sort of weed experiment gone wrong in the backyard?”
I gracefully rule while perched atop my throne.
“Close the door!! I am using the bathroom!”
Of course, I always bow to the Queen Mum.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. facebook less. Cook more. Gotcha the first time, Mama!”
And, it is my sincere hope that I pass my tiara on to my little princesses…
“Texas A&M. Texas A&M, Texas A&M.....if all else fails...Marry Rich. Marry Rich. Marry Rich.”
Here’s to all the other royal mommies out there.
Fake kiss. Stiff wave. Curtsy. Fake kiss. Stiff wave. Curtsy.
