Momhood… what a legacy to live up to!

Moms need their own insurance. You know how you can buy mortgage insurance? critical illness insurance? disability insurance? life insurance? professional liability insurance? I could go on and on.

Well… since you might be reading this on Mothers Day, it occurred to me that the mothers of the world–whether they’re mothers of the flesh or mothers of the heart–get a great deal on Mothers Day, but a rough ride on bumpy terrain most of the rest of the year.

I mean, how often have you heard a nearly-grown child say, “My Mother is my idol. I love the way she talks to me; I love the way she thinks; I love what she stands for; I admire her skills as well as her clothes and her sense of style.”

Or, as the toddlers run in from the sandbox, dragging their toys with them, plunking at least one on your keyboard while you’re in mid-sentence, there’s never a realization that this might not be anything but entirely appropriate.

As a Mom you can expect to get the blame if your kid lies, fails a math test, dyes or pierces any body part, swears, steals, or breaks the heart of someone else’s kid. As a Mom your validity gets compared to the progress and achievements of every other kid in your circle of friends.

So, why not get insurance?

Let’s see. First I’d want insurance that after each birth, my body would snap back to its original shape. And stay there.

Next, I’d want insurance that guarantees that the job skills I’d perfected when I left work were perfectly suited to my position when I returned to work. Paid work, that is.

I’d want nursery school / day care insurance which guarantees my child a precious place in one of these facilities at an affordable price.

I’d want insurance to protect me against the challenge of a four year old, whose ability to argue logically will always outweigh my own.

I’d want insurance that guarantees that if my kid doesn’t like school, or if school doesn’t like my kid, somebody else solves it.

I’d also want insurance for science projects.

A clause that deals with a car that looks like a day care centre would be nice. And a clause that guarantees that every time I’m driving Highway 401 across the top of Toronto from Mississauga to Oshawa, no small person will have to go pee. Nor will I.

I’d want ‘out of style’ insurance, too. You know, some kind of guarantee that I’d be able to go into any store forever and find what’s hanging on the rack completely adorable as well as the right size… a sort of guarantee that the word ‘fashion’ has modern significance.

The Mom’s Policy should also include a clause that guarantees that my adult children will call home regularly, be interested in actually talking and sharing the details of their lives and mine, and that at least half the time they won’t ask for money.

The policy would give me a clause that guarantees alone time in the bathroom and insures against a child getting on the phone and telling someone where I am.

Of course, once I’ve signed the policy and arranged for the monthly direct withdrawals from my bank account, I’d have to have a second look at what I’d signed. After all, my own mom didn’t buy this insurance.

Hi Mom! How are you? No, really, I’m listening. Really listening. And caring.