THE HUMAN COAT RACK

No one ever told me that when I became a mom, that I'd also have the dubious distinction of becoming a human coat rack. If you're a mom too, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Picture the scene - you bundle your kids up for a trip to the park and when you hit the open air, you realize it's warmer than you expected. The next thing you know, both of your kids have ripped off their jackets and have proceeded to deposit their clothing into your arms. Trailing them as they climb the monkey bars, you're now in charge of sweatshirts, hats, a windbreaker and the snacks that you brought with you for your fun-filled afternoon. But then, snack time arrives and you suddenly become the trash receptacle. Yup. Those juice boxes, fruit roll up wrappers and empty potato chip bags are instantly handed back to mom, the official sanitation worker who is always on duty to put trash where it belongs. Now don't get me wrong. On most occasions, I tell them that I'm not the garbage lady and they should throw their trash away, but let's face it. Sometimes it's easier to take their junk and toss it rather than deal with the whining that always accompanies my "throw your garbage away yourself" missive. I've also realized that while I don't have a degree in medicine, I might as well have trained with Florence Nightengale. When anyone falls and scrapes their knee, complains of water in the ear, or moans that they're about to toss their cookies, I'm always at the ready with band aids, bactine, hydrogen peroxide and chewable pepto bismol. So while writing and PR may be my chosen profession, I now moonlight as a coat girl, garbage collector and part-time nurse. Better hit the road and grab a band aid - my son says he just got a paper cut.