For the record–and some background–I now share office space with 3 men (hi, guys!). Not a problem, really. I’m somewhat comfortable being the only woman around. But I’m also a mom and there are different expectations that go with that.

We’re sitting around talking about various domestic issues. I’m actually multitasking and reading e-mail and articles at the same time (don’t ask). We’re talking about who cooks in the household and I mention that I do all the cooking and Mr. Geeky and Geeky Boy clean up. Which I don’t mind because I like to cook and hate cleaning up. The biggest issue right now, I say, is that I often have to fix multiple meals because I tend to make things that kids don’t like. My kids eat PB&J half the time, I say.

Office guy: Well, that sounds real healthy. Aren’t you worried about nutrition and development and all that?
Me: My kids are lucky to be alive.

Huge laughter from the guys. I don’t think it’s that funny. It’s the kind of snark I use among like-minded moms all the time. Somehow, for them, the incongruity of their image of what a mom should be–you know forcing the veggies and fruits–vs. my attitude of “at least they’re not dead” struck them as funny.

Of course, one of them already ribbed me in the winter for a day I forgot to make the kids wear coats (hey, it was warm in the morning). It’s true. I’m a slacker. Or a true evolutionist (survival of the fittest and all).

Note that CBS had a segment on this last night.