So there I was. Bouncing the Froot Loops of Fury off of my fancy wrist bands of invincibility, wondering where my League of Justifications were, when the crumbs under my naked feet reminded me...
I left my boots in the Batmobile.
How will this super-momma ever rid the world of all that's evil and unfair without her sexy red boots?
After whining about the impending doom and destruction, the chocolate syrup serenade on my clean kitchen floor snapped me back. The art of saving humanity must go on. With or without the hot outfit. Bruce will bring my boots home with the milk.
Silly. Silly Super Hero. You're only as good as your costume.
The sharp realization is, I'm not Wonder Woman, like the underoos had convinced me so long ago. Uh...duh.
As validating as it would be, Super Hero status doesn't come in the can with Motherhood.
My Lasso of Truth is...I'm only as beautiful as the day I get to shower with shampoo and wear a shirt with buttons; only as wise as the great idea I stole from the perfect mom I found during a good link session, who I just assume is awesome because she only posts the awesome stuff, as it should be; I'm only as swift as the diaper-of-nastiness being unlawfully tossed onto the tropical popsicle stained carpet; and I'm only as strong as the double ply Bounty I keep in my fanny pack. I really can be rinsed and re-used.
I yell. I don't do it right, according to whoever gets to decide that. I change my mind mid-consequence. My super kicks are about as high as your shin splints. I don't even have the nutrition triangle hanging on my fridge. In fact, I've added a level for vanilla wafers right between the cheesesticks and the canned peaches.
And the bad guys make me cry.
I realize Lex Luthor is just a sad bitter man because his mom made him eat sweet potatoes. His buddies, Dr. Doubt and Captain Comparison have issues, too. Probably with broccoli. But they put up a good fight.
How am I supposed to kick evil's rear without the fancy magic bracelets? Do I scold or re-direct? Why doesn't my anti-frizz mousse anti-frizz? Does the 30 cents I save not buying the fancy tinfoil really matter in the realm of Budgetdom? What exactly does High Fructose do to your guts?
Then there's that villanous marvel shot at the super mom down the street...How does she do it? The answer is, she doesn't. She just wears the sexy red boots.
It's only a costume.
Without fancy bracelets.