I must admit…there are times that I truly feel for my youngest child. As fate and birth order would have it, he’s the sole sibling of the 3 to be left to deal with a menopausal mom. He’s literally become my seeing eye guide often being called upon to put down his video game to come read the directions on the packet of gravy I am attempting to fix, or come down from his bedroom to read me the number on the thermostat that can’t possibly be correct because I’m sweating like a pig at a farmer’s market. The other day however may have been the final straw for my normally good natured young man. I was attempting to go out for the evening and as I was putting my lipstick on in the mirror I caught sight of a very unruly gray hair. How unruly? It was as thick as thick could be and standing at attention on the top of my head like some kind of antennae. Try as I might…and believe me I tried…I couldn’t grasp hold of it…I did however manage to tear out about 6 good strands of brunette. I was now running late, was afraid I had left a bald spot and my eyes had begun to tear making my already limited vision much worse. I had no choice but to call out for assistance. I’ll spare you the ugly details, but ladies I ask you…does this make me a Bad Mother Plucker?