Salty Sal

Another Mother's Day has come and gone.  Now I could spread roses and sugary bubblegum like the media and Hallmark Cards do for this honorable day, but that just isn't in my nature.  Let's be real.  Motherhood isn't for sentimentalists.  First of all, the hormone tsumani that waxes and wanes in a women's body according to the lunar cycle is enough to make any woman loony.  I'm speaking as an expert in both ends of the spectrum.  I've been the teen-ager horrified by the beginning of my cycle and the changes that took place in my body and now I'm the woman at the end of my fertile days who is horrified by the changes in my body.  Do men have to go through this?  No, they are full of fertility until they die!  They may have gray hairs and some sags and bags, but their bodies do not go to hell on them due to depletion of vital hormones. My female bag of chemicals that did it's job to produce two healthy babies is now drying up and I'm a mess of emotions, hot flashes, and sleeplessness. I did my job and the fruits of my womb and my breasts are out in the world making a success of themselves and I'm pretty dang proud of them.  But please, Hallmark, stop making motherhood out to be a sweet and sappy fairytale where everyone lives happily ever after.  I'm here to tell you that it's more like a J.R.R. Tolkein fantasy with goblins and dark tunnels and being lost in the forest, as well as lush meadows, magnificent waterfalls, hidden jewels, and delightful companions along the way. Let's just tell the whole truth, people.