It's All Fun and Games Until Mama Develops and Eye Twitch

I was hoping it was a fluke. Just a passing phase. Like the flutter of an eye.

Nope. I'm not so lucky. It's official, people -- I have developed a permanent eye twitch.

It's as if my right eye lid is possessed, obsessed with shaking like Shakira's jellyfied ba donk a donk butt. Now I have yet more in common with Dr. Evil other than constantly asking myself "Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?"

And apparently it's not going away (like my moles that recently met their fates on my dermatologist's chopping block).

This is what mothering three children born nearly back-to-back will do to you. Ex-zip-it-A: the telltale bitch twitch. Someone signed me up for this without even asking. How rude!

Great. Now I have what's called a tell. Let's call my new eye twitch a mommy tell, shall we? An obvious, dead give-away that I'm constantly trailed by three mini-me's like a ketchup stained wedding gown train with springs attached to it.

What will "they" say about my new perma-blink? (Ever wonder who the nebulous "they" are anyway? If you figure it out, send me "their" address so I can send "them" a nasty-gram via snail mail.)

I imagine what "they" say might go something like this: "Whoa. Look at that crazy chick's eye go! She must be a whacked out, stay-home mom stress case. It's like her lid's got a life of its own. That's just sad."

But wait. My new consta-flicker eye affliction isn't all bad. With my newfound on-and-off eye-cessory I can more accurately aim an even more menacing "mom face," yes, you know what I'm referring to ladies. Yup, it's "the look" I speak of. All moms naturally develop it over time and readily display with uncanny skill when they've "had enough" from the unruly kid ranks. Yes, the "evil eye" we shoot at the kids when on the verge of snapping but cannot raise our voices because we're in public. The look I fire off when I wimp out and opt out of a major freak-out, when I give in and merely dole out yet another threat of a non-effective time-out. But I digress...

... and, yes, it's true that now I can better ward off staring, brimming with bad mommy judgement strangers (you know the kind, the ones who think they can do a better job and who were never, ever antsy kids at the grocery themselves) in the check-out line when I stare back at them with my creepy twitch-o-meter. The faster the twitch, the more offended by their stares I am. So, it's even more creepy now when I ask them to "put their eyes back in their head."

If you're with me on this, twitch on mamas. Get your twitch on.

Hey, I can't be the only one out in the mommy trenches with a mommy "tell." What's yours?