On losing one's mojo

Where did this mom's mojo go? How can she get it back? In The Observer:

There might be some of you out there unsure as to what mojo is, and I'd have to admit that I don't know exactly either. It seems to be one of those words of rock'n'roll origin that describes the 'stuff' inside a person that gives them that extra bit of fizz and sparkle and swagger to get through life...

Anyway, whatever mojo is, I think I've lost it, maybe for good. I am mojo-less. I am sans mojo. You can tell by my 'sense of style'.

...My two-year-old was running around a shop picking out dresses the other day: it was so sweet. She wanted to look 'pretty' because she was going to see her aunt who was 'pretty'.

'Am I pretty?' I asked. 'No,' she said. The world seemed to stop, tumbleweed bounced past in slow motion, the words 'Et tu, Brutus?' crashed in my ears. It was the wake-up call every mojo-less woman needs. So I went home and ate five bags of Doritos.

Clearly, Mom's mojo has left the building. How to recover? She has some ideas, but I'm dubious:

Now the search for my lost mojo is on. Obviously this goes deeper than a mere grooming issue; you've got to find yourself again first. I always find watching the movie Spinal Tap very helpful, but it could be anything that really makes you laugh. Apart from that, blare out some music, gossip on the phone to your friends for hours, be a bit childish and silly, tell other parents you meet in the park you used to be an astronaut.

And if you're lucky, if you're very lucky, your mojo will return and you won't feel that your life has become that scary episode of The Simpsons where Bart sells his soul to Millhouse for $5 and subsequently discovers that he is all alone, without even 'himself' for company any more.

In the end, we are all cake and you've got to be generous handing out the slices; having mojo is remembering to keep the icing for yourself.

(barbara.ellen@observer.co.uk)