That mom

That mom

We all know who she is. We have all seen her. We have all wondered if she was driving asleep.

That mom.

Hair in disarray,  pony tail askew, eyes only partially open, squinting at the road, pajamas still on. If you could see her feet, you would see slippers instead of shoes.

Today, I was that mom. Driving in all my rumpled sweatsuit, brown slippered squinty eyed glory, glaring at anyone who dared to look at me with a questioning gaze.

Oh ya. That was me. I have become one of them. A member of the half awake horde. I never thought I would be one of those exhausted parents waiting dutifully in car line, half awake and mostly dressed, struggling to remember if I even bothered to put on underwear.

The zombie apocalypse is upon us, and it’s a bunch of overworked, overtired midnight shift parents. You would fear us, if we were awake anyway.

That mom is going back to bed.

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