My mom isn’t like other moms.  When I was conceived, my mother didn’t carry me in her uterus, but rather schlepped me around for nine months in her Armani briefcase.  Instead of breastfeeding, she pumped me full of knowledge and self-confidence.  Opting out on diapers, she decided to dress me in business casual pantsuits.

My mom refuses to be a woman in the kitchen, but she also refuses to let me accept anything from a man, so dinner from Dad is off the table.  “Success fuels you,” she says, which means I get most of my energy from filing briefs and then munching on the paper.  I’m lucky I get so much practice interpreting legal jargon during my mom’s daily productive critiques of my posture.  I feel bad knowing that child paralegals would kill to have that on their resumes.  However, Mom always says “neglected children are rungs on the ladder of success.”

I will admit it’s not always easy having a modern mom.  When she picks me up from school in her designer suit and stilettos, all the boys catcall her with crude phrases like “I bet your credit score is so high.”  They then proceed to walk up to her, offer a firm handshake and their resume, and say something else obnoxious like “I want to work under you so that I can learn from your expertise.”  Disgusting!

Nevertheless, I admire my mom because she supports other working women.  Whenever CPS pays us a visit, my mom always makes sure to offer the worker a job at her firm, then proceeds to fire her the moment our case gets thrown out.  Powerful women can’t get too attached.

I try to mirror her support for other strong, independent women by encouraging my classmates to strike against playing house.  Instead we start playing my mom’s favorite game: Open Up a Bottle of Wine and Cry At Your Reflection in the Mirror.  Unfortunately my teacher bans us from playing because we keep cutting our hands on the broken glass containers we use as wine bottles.