It's mid-term election season, which means I suddenly become a relevant statistic.
Funny, I don't feel empowered. I feel just like yesterday, but maybe with a slightly bigger headache because now I have to another item to the "to do" list: become an informed voter.
Frankly, it's pretty easy to grab my vote. All you need to do is tug at my motherhood heart strings. Mothers are accustomed to solidarity: misery loves company. I'd like to see an honest-to-goodness mother in office.
So, candidates with small children, listen up. Here's what you need to do to win my vote:
• Next time you are at a rally, take the microphone with your infant on your hip and explain that your sitter canceled at the last minute. Be sure to have a second child running around on stage and interrupting you every four minutes with a request for a snack, a declaration of boredom, or a need to visit the potty.
• Explain to your running mate that you will miss the next fund raiser because you have to chaperone a field trip. When asked about the scheduling conflict, confess that while you realize that this might cost you up to 10% of your constituency, you cannot stand to see any more tears due to your absence from school activities. On the trip, be sure to feel awkward and excluded because you cannot identify by first name anyone in the class besides your daughter. Try to check your blackberry surreptitiously because nobody will understand that they changed the time of the fundraiser AFTER you had volunteered and though you would love to take the blackberry and throw it down the nature center’s ravine, you need to keep your job because your adjustable mortgage just ballooned and your 401 K went down the toilet in the subprime shuffle of 2008.
• Sit for your next media interview in a designer jacket that is covered in dog vomit, because just as the limo pulled up, the dog puked and the good-bye hug from your son included the paper towel that he used to help you clean the mess so that he unwittingly permanently stained the silk shantung masterpiece of fashion for which you have been paying, with interest, for almost a decade. Lament the loss of your only decent suit jacket and wonder when you will find the time to scour the racks at TJ Maxx for a replacement. The floor of the limo should be littered with crushed crumbs, shin guards, hair elastics, books, and the ipod shuffle that has been missing for 6 months.
• Have a bad hair day and a run in your stockings. Forget to shave your legs. Smudge your mascara. Show the world that your lunch consists of stale Triscuits and a cup of coffee. Write your next campaign speech with a crayon on the back of someone's homework.
Do that, and you've got my vote!
