Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a mommy, a
daddy and a little boy. And that little boy thought his mommy and
daddy knew everything. They explained sunsets and sunrises. The
color of the ocean. And even where your poop goes when you
Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a mommy, a daddy and a little boy. And that little boy thought his mommy and daddy knew everything. They explained sunsets and sunrises. The color of the ocean. And even where your poop goes when you flush.
And then the little boy went to school and discovered that his mommy was a big, fat liar.
The ocean wasn’t blue because blueberries covered the bottom. And the sun wasn’t held up in the sky by a big bungee cord that made it go up and down. And the flushing thing? Well, it turned out that Daddy had been right about it, so he was the only expert left in the house.
But because the mommy – that would be me – couldn’t stand not being the expert on everything, I went out and bought a new book, “How to Become an Expert in Your Field in Ten Days or Less.” And I followed every day’s advice to the letter. Sort of.
Day 1: Choose area of expertise.
This is a difficult one. I mean, sure I could choose something I’m good at, like stain identification and removal. But that seems so ordinary. I kind of like the sound of nanotechnology. Or maybe nuclear physics. No, nanotechnology is definitely better. For one thing, it’s much easier to spell.
Day 2: Compile credentials.
Apparently, being an expert in nanotechnology involves more than spelling. For some reason, Ph.D.s are requested. Gee whiz – you’d think this was science or something. Whatever. I called a bunch of colleges. None were willing to give me a Ph.D. in nanotechnology just because I cried and begged. Hung up the phone and ate a Hershey bar from my secret chocolate stash.
Back to Day 1: Choose area of expertise.
Let’s see, I’m good a shoe shopping – but then so are half the women in America. Hey, wait. I’m a mom. I will be an expert Mom. I just have to make sure nobody talks to Junior or any of his teachers – otherwise I’ll be back to day one again and I don’t think I have enough chocolate stashed away to get through that.
Day 2: Compile credentials.
Let’s see, I know “Red Fish, Blue fish” and “Green Eggs and Ham” by heart. I can change a stinky diaper and iron a shirt at the same time. I can give a timeout to a child who has just tried to give his dog a bath in the pool and I don’t laugh while doing it. I’m an expert! Today is my first Hershey-free day since that Ph.D. fiasco.
Day 3: Network. Talk to others in your field.
Okey-dokey. I went to the school to pick up Junior. Said “hi” to several moms. Everyone smiled at me. I must be looking like an expert already! Of course, it was only after we got home that I noticed the toilet paper on my shoe. Ate three Hershey bars and felt much better. Might have been the sugar.
Day 4: Research one area in your field and write about it.
Ummm. OK. Today I researched “how to go to your son’s school to pick him up and not wear toilet paper.” Checked myself out in the mirror several times. It was actually quite frightening, but there was no toilet paper anywhere. Used old lipstick to write on mirror, “check for TP before leaving.”
Day 5: Put together and market seminar based on aforementioned writing.
OK – I thought everyone knew how to use lipstick to write on mirrors, but I put together a seminar and brochure. Handed them around the neighborhood, then went shopping – which isn’t much fun when you’ve eaten too many Hershey bars that week. Arrive home to find a pile of brochures with a note on top that says, “stop littering the neighborhood.” Rush to secret chocolate stash and discover I am out of Hershey bars.
Day 6: Rehearse your
Please. I’m at Wal-Mart, stocking up on Hershey bars.
Day 7: Re-evaluate your expertise level.
I can’t. I’m busy eating Hershey bars. In fact, I don’t think I even want to be an expert on anything anymore – hey, wait a minute. I just realized that I am an expert. I am an expert in the field of Hershey Bar Identification, Relocation, and Consumption.
And just as soon as I finish off the last one, I might put together a brochure. It beats explaining my sunrise/bungee cord theory any day.