You can call me Martha

Monday night I nursed a migraine into the wee hours of the morning. I haven't had one in a while; I couldn't figure out why my head was a poundin' and I was so queasy. I would doze off, toss and turn and think about the day. (I had just enough prednisone coursing through me to keep me awake.) And every now and then a thought would cross my mind: Did I just become vice president of my local PTA?

I know I went to the general election, with hot tea in hand and a nasty sore throat, to support Stephanie in her bid to take over the world. Or at least the PTA. (I don't think *they* know about her little chip problem.) Then there was a vacancy and a light-hearted threat from Zack's teacher and prodding and...

It's in the minutes; there's a paper trail. I am the co-vice president now. There's no backing out.

Not that I want to back out - I care about my kids and their school. Heck, I care about kids in general. If I had ran a real campaign, instead of a forced coup, I think It's about time... would have been a good slogan for this slacker mom.

It's the cultural iconology I am afraid of. I hear PTA, I think of Bree Van de Kamp and pearls. Polished and immaculate. Perfect kids and manicures. Cheerful and well-dressed.

So, I decided I need to revamp my look a little. Is the bow PTA-worthy or do I need a pouffy hairstyle? Something that screams I know how to make casseroles and I am not afraid of sharing them.

All kidding aside, it has been my fear of having to fit some cookie-cutter model of what a good mom, a good PTA leader, a good christian should be that has kept me away from stepping up and speaking out - from being the leader I could be. I imagine other moms feel the same way sometimes.

And that my friends, is not a good thing.

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Much to My Sjogren has been updated.

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