I ran into one of my son’s preschool teachers at the grocery store the other night. It was one of those rare trips to the store where I’m not distracted by two kids, or trying to push one of those semi-truck-carts with the steering wheel that is supposed to keep my son occupied, but never does. My point is, I could actually stop and talk with her. Now, I am not one for small talk. I hate small talk. Especially the awkward, yet inevitable, discussion of weather that is the topic of choice on elevators.

But, this woman….this amazing woman who is a preschool teacher, who is ALWAYS smiling and so happy, and saying how blessed she is, and who, when told the children are lucky to have her replies, “No, I’m lucky to have them“…well, quite frankly she fascinates me. How anyone can spend their day with a roomful of toddlers and pre-kindergartners, without going looney, is really beyond me. AND, she has two children of her own. I find myself looking at her with this weird sense of fascination…part admiration, part freak show. Because, having all those children around her all day, and always having that smile…well, that’s as odd to me as the human blockhead.

So, there we were in the grocery store talking about back to school stuff. I told her that I wasn’t really looking forward to the hustle and bustle of schooldays, but that I would enjoy having my house clean for a few hours a day. She laughed and said, “Oh, you can’t worry about a clean house, because after all, we can’t be Supermoms.” Really? Because, in my eyes she might as well be catching bullets in her teeth and leaping tall buildings in a single bound, and I’m just Jimmy Olsen watching from the sidewalk.

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