Stepford

Long, Long ago, when the area that is now known as Stepford was discovered, the early settlers were so sure of the superiority of their new home that they named it "I'm-better-than-you-ville." Although the name has changed over the centuries, that same feeling of undeniable superiority on the part of the residents toward their home remains just as strong. . .

What am I doing here? Have I lost my mind? This can't be real . . . how the hell did I end up in this place?

All good questions. Perhaps the best might be: why in God's name did I pay all that money to live in a place where I don't fit in? Ok, let's be honest. I actually do know how it is that I ended up back here. It was just after giving birth to my daughter that I realized I'd accidentally married Mr. Wrong, I was completely alone and I was in way over my head. I just wanted to go home. So I did.

Then the chaos of raising a child on my own and the nightmare which is an out of state divorce took over and before I knew it. . . it was too late. I'd missed my window. . .it was time to register for Kindergarten. I was stuck here.

Now I know how all those poor dolphin and whales feel. . . one minute you're swimming around just trying to get your bearings and the next-wham! You've stranded yourself on the beach. Except mine isn't so much of a beach- it's more like an immaculately groomed country club-like prison. But I'm still the same fish out of water.

Somehow my my knee-jerk reaction to 'come home' had resulted in my being not only a resident of Stepford but - and here it comes so sit down - a Stepford Mommy.