I was watching television the other day, and a commercial came on, advertising Dixie paper plates.

 

 

Heartwarming images of women playing with their children and preparing meals in a convenient, disposable manner flashed before my eyes.

 

 

The actresses playing these mothers said things to me, the sorts of things that mothers who care about their children might say to a camera inexplicably filming their daily routines.

 

 

“I will no longer be defined by the number of dishes I wash,” declared the first actress, chasing playfully after the child actor portraying her son.

 

 

Because as you all know, we mothers tend to define ourselves by the dinnerware we’ve cleaned in a day. You can whine to your therapist about your daddy issues and read your self-help books, but it’s all about the dishes in the end. My self-esteem is completely dish-based, of this you can be certain, my friends.

 

 

“I’m trading in my apron for something a little more glamorous,” announced the next actress-mother, as she painted her nails with her fake daughter.

 

 

The little girl then held up her hand, flashing her nails for the camera. All I could think as I burned my apron was, “Wow. Nothing says glamour like blue nail polish. I’ve got to get some of that.”

 

 

“I deserve a paper plate that’s as strong as I am,” proclaimed a woman displaying her enormous reserves of strength by carrying her own bag of groceries.

 

 

“Right on,” I thought. “I hold my fist in the air with you, my strong sister! I, too, deserve an equally strong paper plate!”

 

 

And speaking of equal, somehow the pain of not making the same money as men for the same work and being sexually harassed by managers at every job I’ve ever had is instantly washed away now that I have paper plates that are as strong as me. It’s amazing. Dixie, how can I ever thank you for this joyous trifecta of emotional healing, sexual equality and disposable dishes?  

 

 

The commercial continued, and mesmerized, I watched.

 

 

“My children come first, it’s as simple as that,” said the last pretend mom, after cutely tickling the young actress playing her daughter.

 

 

Suddenly it all became very clear to me.

 

 

I am a horrible mother.

 

 

I thought I was doing okay, but I have now realized the error of my ways, thanks to this message from Dixie paper plates.

 

 

You see, I mistakenly thought I was taking good care of my children by taking good care of their other mother- Mother Earth- and washing reusable dishes, rather than using paper plates once and throwing them away to languish forever in the strata of a landfill.

 

 

I foolishly thought that by leaving my children a better planet, I was actually giving them a better future, rather than neglecting them presently, to load the dishwasher for thirty seconds.

 

 

Now I know better.

 

 

Thank you, Dixie, for setting me straight.