My defining moment. No, really.

Just the other day, my blog got featured as the best of “hot off the press” on the homepage of  I have no idea how it happened, but it created an insane influx of traffic to Diapers and Divinity.  By 8:00 a.m., I had well over 500 hits, and finished out the day at unprecedented numbers.  I felt temporarily famous, and it was pretty cool.  Most of the feedback was positive, but at 11:00 a.m., I received this comment in my Inbox.  I’m assuming the writer had perused the blog and my profile and such.  (I edited out one phrase for the sake of decency.)

So you ended up being just a mother.

Just another mother, like a chimp, a cow, an elephant, a whale, just another mother, like an insect, or an octopus, or a worm.  Just another mother.

Your kids will not thank you, your husband will not like you, your own mother will pity you for making her own same mistake.

Just another mother.

For a moment of frenzy, of uterine voracity, irrational and irreversible, you destroyed your body, your beauty, and your own intellect.

Parental-brain-atrophy-syndrome, where your brain biologically adjusts to the need of your infants, descending at their own subhuman level, with just one dimension, food, or perhaps two dimensions, food and feces. Continue reading