Mommy Pissing Contests

I have a dear friend Jess whose son, E, is 13 months old. He is a dear jolly boy, who is very loving and enthusiastic. Jess is a great mom who loves her son and is plagued with the eternal doubt of motherhood: Am I doing this right? I am a tribal elder, with five years worth of experience under my belt. Jess often comes to me with her questions. Yesterday we were at a local play area when she related an experience in the official worldwide "Mommy Pissing Contest."
If you are a mom, you know what I am talking about. It generally starts off with an innocent question or complement, like in Jess' case.
"Your baby is such a sweetheart."
(Ready)
"Oh thank you. How old is your baby?"
(Set)
"He is just over a year. How old is yours?"
"She is 11 months, and driving me crazy with cruising and grabbing things off of the table."
(GO!!!!)
"Oh I totally understand. Little one there has been walking since 9 months, and is now climbing everything he can get up on. He is saying five words, and has been accepted to Harvard. Etc, etc, etc. Blah Blah Blah."
And so it goes. We wonder how the parents get to the point of fist fights on the sidelines of the soccer field. I theorize that it begins in the trenches of KidTime where parents feel prompted to stand up for their six-month-old's honor. I offer Jess assurance that it really is just drama that some overly competitive people feel compelled to create to give their own lives meaning. I am full of it (you know, sage advice!)
Please excuse me now, my 12 month old is asking me to change her cloth diaper and fix her an organic peanut butter sandwich. She is such an amazingly advanced baby.

What is it that you do again?

When someone asks me, "What do you do?" I wonder if I should get all snarkey and say something like, "I make milk, nurse a baby, drive hither and yon daily at the service of a five year old, all the time feeling guilty that there are at least three loads of laundry waiting, dinner to be planned and shopped for, and dog hair dust bunnies roaming wild on my hardwood floors."Then I would ask what they do, and they would say something lame like, "I'm in real estate."