Welfare mom could use some good advice...?

• Apparently, the folks at the welfare office have a problem with the fact that I can't remember all of my kids names, or exactly how many kids I have, or where I last left them, for that matter. What in the heck do they expect, for me to watch them every single second of the day?! I know they go to school, or something, some of the time; geez, I'm not a radar tracking device! I say that if they want me to know where they are every single waking moment they shouldn't have made me stop tethering them in the yard! Can you other moms out there relate? Personally, I think the woman I spoke with was threatened by my education; I have a masters degree in flour & salt dough sculpture, which is a highly specialized field of study! My years at the Sorbonne have made me the best darn dough sculptress out there! I started out at the Ecole Normale, but was distressed to learn they would want me to teach in France after that, so it was off to the Sorbonne and dough sculpture for me! Thank God, too! These days, my erotic dough sculptures that I make from free government flour and salt, and sell at naughty lady parties under the table, are the source of my cig and beer money. Did you know that you can't buy cigarettes and beer with food stamps?! I kid you not! I think that if the welfare department looks at me without their jealousy for my refinement and obvious superior breeding, they will see what a great mom I am! Hell, I let my kids go trick-or-treating every night, and I take exception to the comment from the social worker that they were only going door-to-door begging to get something to eat. This house is loaded with food! Jesus, the kids can gnaw on any number of dough sculptures if they're that hungry, for cryin' out loud! The teachers at their school are no joy, either. At the last parent/teacher conference, the woman started off the meeting with, "Miss Skankstein, please don't smoke." Frickin' hell!!!! By the way, she also lectured me on my frequent use of the term, "frickin' hell", as in, "Why in the frickin' hell can't I smoke? The damn asbestos in the school walls are killin' ya faster than my nicotine!" The teacher obviously was one of those weird tree-hugger/health nut types, who like to boss everyone else around. So you see, being a mother these days is a difficult, thankless job. I would lament more the lack of appreciation out there, but it's time for my soaps. Can some of you moms out there tell me how you deal with all the day to day aggravation of being a devoted parent?

• Answer:

  I ♥ you.