Her raven hair spilled over her bare shoulders. Her lips glistened red. She was undeniably glamorous, luscious. She caught her own eye passing by the hall mirror and struck a pose, marveling at her transformation into an unabashed vixen. Yes, she still possesed "it." Her sleek black velvet gown hugged her Rubinesque volupte with a gripping intensity only her passionate lover had ever wrapped her in. Tonight she would sparkle at the black tie affair in the nation's capital, where she would mingle with who's who of Washington in support of a worthy cause. She would be the envy of every man and woman in the packed ballroom, rendered breathless from her astounding beauty and heaving breasts....until...
"MOM...I think I'm gonna be siiiiiick!"
Snapping out of her self-admiration trance, she quickly turned her focus to the three year old standing in the middle of the kitchen, little lip aquiver.
"Do you feel bad?" she asked.
"I think I'm gonna 'throw uuuup!"
Rivaling Wonderwoman's speed and authority, she snapped into action, grabbing up the time-bomb tot and aiming her, AWAY FROM THE VELVET DRESS, and toward the kitchen sink. Her charmed evening spiraled down the sink drain as well.
Never had the dichotomy of glamour and motherhood been so poignant.
Sitter sent home, velvet dress flung on the bed, her cool evening of looking hot had suddenly and unceremoniously morphed into cool washcloths and hot wash cycles. Rather than 4 hours of scintillating social butterflying it was 4 rounds of changed bedding and 4 hours of head petting and motherly loving.
In her ratty t-shirt and sweats, hair hastily yanked back and smudged mascara, she could think of no more beautiful way to spend an evening than tending to her little one "making it all better." Her most worthy cause to be sure. Motherhood is a come as you are party that can spring up at any time!
(This is a true story although recount of elegance may have been subject to artistic license.)