Heroes Aren't Born, They're Built. (And they come with ballgowns and anthropomorphic cats.)

Did you ever decide you needed a night off?

A night where you planned on indulging in a little red wine and Robert Downey Jr.?

And, by happy coincidence, did this night occur when both of your children had been invited on sleepovers?

And, did you ever settle down happily on your bed in your flannel PJs, with the pillows plumped up just right behind your head, a glass of Sangiovese in your hand, and Iron Man in the DVD player?

And just when you were sighing in relaxation and enjoyment, as the movie started and you took that first ruby sip of your wine, did you ever hear the front door opening?

And did you ever spring from the bed, wondering who was walking into your house?

And did you ever run to the front door, a heavy flashlight held in one hand and your wineglass in the other, because you didn't think to put it down?

And then, did you discover that it was your younger daughter, being returned by the sleepover mother due to a "stomach ache" (cough*homesickness*cough) and quickly hide the flashlight behind your back?

And then, instead of spending your evening watching an insanely hot arms manufacturer/superhero, did you ever spend the rest of the evening cuddling a weepy seven-year-old and watching Barbie: Princess and the Pauper?

If you're a mom, chances are that you have.