I'm a mommy to the two coolest little boys in the world. Jackson is my smartypants sweetheart, he's almost nine.  Noah is an adorable and talkative age four.  I feel really lucky to have sons because the entertainment is almost nonstop.  We laugh a lot, and I've come to know that laughter is key.  Especially to maintain the little bit of sanity I still have when they are driving me nuts, and they do in fact drive me nuts, a lot.  It's always interesting though, no matter what.  So, a long time ago I started writing down conversations we have, because for posterity sake, this stuff is like gold.

As I was getting in my car the other morning, I noticed a most distressing sight. The oak trees lining the parking lot were displaying a palette of greens, and various shades of yellows and reds. “Seriously?,” I thought. “That early?”

Indeed, it was true. I closed my eyes, and in the time it takes to blink came the stark realization that Summer is coming to an end, and Fall is just around the corner. I do love Fall – it’s my favorite time of year; but I haven’t even stepped foot on a beach or – otherwise truly enjoyed the Summer. How can it possibly be the dog days already? Ya know?

Your neighbors – they can be your best friends or your worst enemies. They can even be total strangers to you, which may, sometimes, be for the best. I never really understood what it was like to live in a suburban-type neighborhood when I was a kid, because we lived out in the country. Sure, there was a house across the street, and some down the road, but there was no house directly next to us on any side. And few houses really, even within sight.

I had no idea what a wonderful thing that was until I “grew up” and lived near others. You know what? People are annoying. Seriously, I love you guys and all, really! I am intrigued by people, love building friendships, and enjoy the company of others, in moderation. But overall, people are, have been, and always will be really annoying creatures. My history with neighbors kind of illustrates this point, with everything from unwanted bodily excretions to people mating with horses. Yes. You read that correctly.

I’m the chick who always puts her foot in her mouth. Sometimes I open my mouth, and the wrong words just come flying out. It’s a tricky gig being me, my brain and mouth don’t always operate on the same frequency. Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a wicked sense of humor and the ability to laugh louder at myself than all the people around me. But needless to say, it can be very embarrassing.

Just when we think our kids can't surprise us, they go and do something totally unexpected.

As a parent of an impressionable teenager, over the years I’ve taught my son, Nick, the importance of values and morals. To do what’s right – whether or not doing the right thing fit in with the wrong that his peers were engaging in, and enticing him to also do. To take a stance and defy those who would seek to challenge him. And over the years, Nick’s grown into a responsible young adult whom I’m exceptionally proud of. His charm is matched only by his wit, creativity, humility and humanity.

Contrary to the social myths that “motherhood is natural” and “woman are instinctively good caregivers” is my opinion that being a mother is anything BUT natural for many of us. In fact, there is so much to learn by experience, and it’s hard, damnit. In technical terms? It’s SuperDuper-Effin-McHard-N-Stuff.

I don’t know about you, but it has always seemed to me that the prevailing, socially accepted idea about Motherhood (yes, that requires a big “M”) from back in the day is that it is a station in life that naturally unfolds for a woman after she has forced a tiny human through her vagina. As though becoming MOTHER is effortless, and we just receive this set of characteristics passively.

After the nurses clean up the baby, a representative of the High Authority of Motherhood comes to the woman’s side:

[gesturing towards the newborn] “Excuse me, Madame. It appears as though this small being’s head just passed through your vaginal canal – is that correct?”

“Why yes, yes it is!”

“Excellent! Let us now present you with this Official Document of Motherhood.”

“Thank you!”

[insert cheesy music and fake smiles]

Why does it seem like every mother of a large brood, with the exception of me, is in denial? I’ve yet to hear one of these mothers come right out and say, “Fuck you, uterus, or damn you, Ortho Novum! You both royally screwed me too many times!” Why do these large quivered mamas feel compelled to only say sickeningly sweet things about the fact that they are a walking fetus factory?

Just once, I’d like to hear one echo my sentiment that it sucks to be helpless against repeated, ill timed pregnancy. What are they so afraid of? Do they fear being called a bad mom? It is a reality that not every child of a large family was a planned baby. Trust me. Seven of mine were “Oh shitballs” moments. Yes, all seven. You can choose to argue with me on that, if you want, but it is the honest to goodness truth. I tried, like a son of a gun, to stop. When I realized that stopping was not an option, I decided to settle for spacing them out. Nope, it obviously wasn’t going to happen.

One time, I knew a lady who hyphenated her last name when she got married, ending up as Stickrod-Stewart, on purpose. No doubt she has the best sense of humor of anyone I've ever met. It's like she wants people to make fun of her name.

Parents should think long and hard about what to name their baby. My Mom didn't. In fact, up until the moment I was born, I was to be named Jennifer. Legend tells that five other girls were born that night, four of them were named Jennifer. So, to ensure her baby girl would be unique, she Piper'd me on the fly.

"Piper? Like, the Pied Piper?" "That's an unusual name." "Was your Dad a pilot?" "Hey, I know someone named Piper!!"

I hear at least one of those a day, and usually several times a day. I'm forever being asked to clarify... "Phifer?" "Hyper?" "Pepper?"