In celebration of mothers, I would like to read a story I wrote a short time ago called June and the Gang Would Be Proud. As an adolescent, I believe parenting would be a breeze. If I had known motherhood entailed fishing cell phones from toilets and pulling Cocoa Puffs out of noses, I'd have become a nun. I would have evicted baby chicks from my playhouse, swaddled dolls and listened to every conversation about hemorrhoids, infant bowel movements, and coupons my mother's quilting group had instead