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Skylar’s Mom

Having a baby can rob you of many things.  Your once-perky breasts.  Your will to stay awake past eight o’clock.   Your — cue the ominous music here — IDENTITY.

Turns out, I am no longer Candy Kirby, smart-ass extraordinaire and lover of all things chocolate.  My resume of accomplishments…?  Moot.  Because the very moment I stepped into my daughter’s daycare, I became SKYLAR’S MOM.

(This is where Mr. Candy would start singing, “Skylar’s mom has got it going on…” and I would mock-slap his ass, thrilled by the flattery, but I’ll spare you our disgusting cutesiness.  Oops!  Too late.  Good luck getting THAT visual out of that head.)

“Hi, I’m Skylar’s mom,” I immediately introduced myself to the daycare crew.

“Oh, you’re Skylar’s mom!  Nice to meet you.”

Teacher Nicole handed me a folder of paperwork addressed to — you guessed it — “Skylar’s Mom.”  But it didn’t truly dawn on me that my name, my identity I’ve been building for more than three decades, had been usurped by my six-month-old slobber puss of a child until I bumped into one of the other mommies:

“Are you Skylar’s mom?”

“Yes!”

“Hi, I’m Leni’s mom.”

The next eighteen years flashed before my eyes:  going to PTA meetings; attending orchestra concerts; creepily peering in the window at her first school dance.  All as SKYLAR’S MOM.  We have become them.  “Them” being the old ladies who used to pick us up from school and let us have slumber parties at their houses.  (You know, Sarah’s Mom and Julie’s Mom.)  Only MUCH cooler, of course.  *Ahem*

Truth be told, the novelty of being called “Skylar’s Mom” is kind of fun.  That is, when it doesn’t make me turn my head and say, “Huh?  Who are you talking to?” before I realize:  “Oh right!  Yes.  I’M the mom!  The responsible one.”  As I simultaneously inhale the spitball I was about to launch.

Yeah.  The slumber parties at Skylar’s Mom’s house are going to be FUN.

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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