While writing recent pieces about how you know if you're the mom of a boy or the mom of a girl, I realized there are so many indicators that separate us moms (in general) from everyone else on Earth. So here it is: You know you're a mom if ...

1.  You haven't heard your actual name the entire day, but you've been beckoned relentlessly.

2.  You've ever sang The Wheels on The Bus with the same enthusiasm you once sang I Will Survive.

3.  Lying is always an option as in ... "I'm sorry, the game store is closed on Sunday." "I love the outfit you put together yourself." "Yes, you do sound like Beyonce when you sing." and "No, they don't give ketchup at the drive-thru."

4.  You have a stain on your clothing that you would have to taste to place.  What is that latte or spit up? One sec… Hmmm... Oh, it's spit up.

I’ve read for years about parents getting puffed up with their child’s accomplishments and deflated when the little ones came up short. They were obviously pathetic people so uncomfortable in their own skin, so unable to find fulfillment within themselves, that they’re going to make their child’s life miserable, thought my non-child-having self. Children are children, and you love them regardless, so how can you have such highs and lows. Surely I wouldn’t act that way when I had a child of my own.

Hah, laughed some guiding force of the universe. In the 15 months since my son came along, this superior-inferior battle has waged mercilessly in my head. See for yourself:

Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the new street style blog -- for tots: Ladys & Gents. It's like The Satorialist blog and the Jak & Jil blog got together and made themselves a very serious little baby fashion blog.

So while your toddler drools all over the faded t-shirts handed down from your sister's kids, have a sit-down here with the Internets and peruse what your little darling could be wearing instead if you had any fashion sense at all. Well, fashion sense, an extremely generous clothing budget, and all the time in the world. How ridiculous and pretentious is this blog?!?

A couple in South Carolina has been arrested for abuse of a 7-year-old boy, who was beat repeatedly with a belt and shoes. The victim told police that he was “spanked” on numerous days, and forced to keep soap in his mouth. He had multiple bruises on his shins and rear end. 

The alleged abusers, Amber Tyler, 27, and Coolidge Mike McDaniel, 29, were charged with child cruelty and released Sunday on a $1,000 bond. 

The police report said that the little boy was afraid to go home because he might get “spanked” again for telling.

Better put another five bucks in her therapy jar is a common phrase in our house. It refers to any time we do something to our children that might come out on a counselor’s couch in a decade or so. “My mother forced me to eat green vegetables, and now I have nightmares of Brussels sprouts chasing me through the streets,” they might say.

It’s pretty much another way of saying, “Get over it.”

Woman 1: Ow, oh, ow ow! Please wait (exasperated)! Let me take a breath.

Woman 2: Give her a sec, Doctor, she almost squeezed my hand off.

Holy shit, what is she doing in there, an amputation?

Cosmetic Dermatologist: Did you have a natural childbirth?

Woman 1: I don't have children.

Cosmetic Dermatologist: Well, when you do, go natural. It'll boost your pain threshold, prepare you for stuff like this. Now, hold still, just seven more.

Seven more?! Of what ... blood sucking leeches to the face? I don't think she can take it. Frankly, I don't know if I can take it. Why am I still sitting here on the table in the room next door? Is looking young that important?

Have you ever found yourself exhausted because your little one kept waking up during the night or took forever to fall asleep? Or have you seen firsthand what lack of sleep looks like on a 4-year-old who can’t fall asleep before she passes out from sheer exhaustion at 11 p.m. only to wake up three more times before her official wake time at 7 a.m.? Have you ever been the parent driving around all over town at all hours of the night to get your toddler to sleep?

I was getting ready to go out on New Year's Eve, a night I think we can all agree warrants a little more bling than the other 364 days of the year, when my 8-year-old daughter walked into my closet.

"Mommy, you look snazzy!"

"Snazzy, huh? That's a good word. I feel snazzy."

G-d, that kid is cute, I thought to myself, as I slipped on my snazzy stilettos.

"Yeah, Mom, you look like a hooker!"

Here's where you should insert the sound effect of a record being scratched to a halt, in the middle of a beautiful ballad.

"I'm sorry, what?"