The Many Faces of Mom by Debbie Farmer

When I became pregnant, I vowed the most important thing I could do for my family was to be consistent.

Two children later, my moods swing faster than a tennis ball at Wimbledon, my children are saving their allowance for exorcism and my husband calls me Sybil under his breath. Although he says he will never really understand me, I have finally convinced him that six moms are better than one, especially if one actually cooks.

In the morning I am Bright, Perky, Energetic Mom. "Good morning children!" I cry, flinging open the mini-blinds. "Are you ready for your breakfast of Eggs Benedict with cream, home-cured butter, and fresh baked bread right out of the oven?"

"What's today?" my preschooler asks, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"It's Thursday!" I chirp. "The fifth day of the week in the Western calendar originally called by the Greeks 'the day of Thor.' Now get up so we can begin our day of educational adventures to stimulate your growing minds."

My children just stare. Perky Mom lasts until Efficient Mom arrives at 10:30.

"Okay kids!" I shout. "Enough arts and crafts! I will start three loads of laundry, scrub the bathroom and dust your room. Then we will leave for the park at 11:36, feed three ducks, two geese and eat our lunches on a bench at noon."

My children stare. Efficient Mom is replaced by Tired Mom at 1:00 p.m.

"What day is it again, Mom?" my preschooler asks.

"I dunno."

"Where's Baby Ben?"

"Who?"

"Why is drool dripping down the side of your chin?"

"I dunno."

Reality Mom arrives during naptime. "So what," I think, "if the wash isn't dry, the only thing clean in the bathroom is soap, and the only thing dusted is the screen on the television so we can see the picture. We're all dressed, fed, wearing clean underwear and don't smell."

Frantic Mom arrives half an hour before dinner. My children look as if they've been run over by a steamroller.

"Back off, kids!" I screech, throwing a bag of frozen peas in the microwave as the buzzer on the dryer rings and Baby Ben howls for milk. "These hands are registered weapons!" I exclaim while karate-chopping the lettuce for salad and drop-kicking the oven door closed. "What do you want from me!" I shriek. "Go back to the television. The macaroni and cheese will be done in a minute!"

My children just stare. My favorite mom is Loving Mom who arrives at bedtime.

"Aren't they sweet?" I coo stroking their hair as they sleep. "I just can't see how you men can work all day and miss out on all of this." I slowly shake my head at my husband. "I just don't understand you at all."

My husband just smiles.