Sometimes I can really convince myself that I’m a boss. Like just the other day when I bopped around town in my ivy cap and Chuck Taylors…6 errands in 25 min. Booyah! I’m blonde, light-footed lightning, baby. A real Linda Carter in star-spangled panties. I’m home in time for the after-nap diaper change, the obnoxious washing machine bleet bleet, I can pre-heat the oven, build “towahs” from blocks, return 2 emails, concept 3 headlines for a morning meeting, and make Skype at 7 with my parents (Milo immobilized in a sudsy tub).

But because every high feeling eventually gets a surprise kick in the rear, my ‘boss’ status has been taken down a few notches. In fact, it’s been taken down so low, these past few days that when I should be feeling like a multi-tasking boss, a badass CEO at nap time, I am really losing my marbles. Because Milo will NOT STAY IN HIS TODDLER BED. Again!

Yes, we are back to that. He’s either ally-ooping over tall backs of chairs OR giving me the Hulk Hogan “clothesline” when my body acts as a barrier at the edge of his bed. Then my 27 threats from the kitchen “get iN BEDDDDD” – “GET IN BBBBEDDDD!!!” as he bursts out of his room, then hobbles quickly down the hall. A mini diapered neanderthal…those high-pitched, hysterical shrills trailing behind him. And as a mad cavewoman, I lose my wits – toss composure aside and fall in step behind him.

It’s been suggested I reinvest in a larger sleep sack, or move the lock on his door to the outside (all good ideas) – I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.

I was thinking in order to stand up a little straighter, give myself a real hard look in the eye (albeit a mirror), I may need an identity boost. A new internal monologue. A different tune to step to and embrace. Hell, even a new alias.

These names…

– Notorious B.I.G.
– Puff Daddy
– Soulja Boy
– Really Doe

What kid would want to f’ with a mom named “Really Doe”?

So I’ve been tinkering with the idea of an alter rap ego. So I plugged my first name into rapstarname.com and my alias is “Monika Thang”. But wait, is it pronounced “Monica”, like my 2 white friend’s named Monica (which happens to mean ‘Advisor’…okay, not bad!) – or is it “Moneeka” or “Monikuh” or more like the word Moniker, which is exactly the purpose of this. Whatever! I’m putting my own stamp on it, and rolling with “Miz Moneeka Thang”. That’s right, shorty.

So in about 30 minutes, when Milo wakes from this prolonged nap and pads down the hall like baby Godzilla, I’ll meet him head-on with a hard folded-arm pose, maybe even a wutang move (if I can cue up a beat in the background), and then he’ll meet the austere Miz Moneeka Thang. Sure to have him trembling down to his li’l striped socks (or giggling, that’s more realistic).

Peace out. I’ll keep you muthas posted.

xoxo,

The Boss