My friend Laura (who loves to see her name in my posts) attended a cookie exchange last week. I wasn't there, so my account of said party is totally hearsay, but I am pretty sure I have the deets correct so I am going to run with it. Laura goes into the party with a group of homemakers (group name will be omitted as I can't remember it... otherwise you would find that group located under the closest bus via this blog entry). It is a cookie exchange, so Laura brings lovely chocolate dipped pretzels with colored candy melt drizzled atop for festivity. Lovely, yes? No, not in Stepford's Homemaker group! Apparently her cute and festive pretzels were not the bell of the ball. Instead she traded chocolate dipped mediocrity for ornate bites of heaven that would put Martha Stewart to shame. Truthfully, I have no recollection of what the cookies even were, as Laura was so detailed about the packaging I am not sure I even got to the cookies. Laura presented her pretzels in a clear baggie. Practical. Utilitarian. Easy. Amen, Laura. But no, the Momunist Regime that threw the cookie party wanted a little more than that. She was met with individual cloth bags laced shut with ribbon and recipe cards done in calligraphy and scrapbooked onto crafting paper with decorative scissors and pretty bows. This was not your humble author's cookie party, which sadly is what went through Laura's mind as she attended this garish display of "too much time on your hands." It does make me wonder though... who are these women and what planet do they hail from?
I consider myself a pretty good do-er. My mom is a step away from Martha Stewart (only because she works full time, otherwise she'd be Martha minus the prison record), and I inherited a wee bit of it. I can't decorate a cake like she can, but I want to learn. And, I can't sew and I don't want to learn.... but in a pinch, I think I can pull off some cuteness. However, I don't lace my own burlap cookie sacks and my calligraphy has been on hiatus since I hand wrote all of our wedding invitation envelopes back in the day. But really... (I bet you were wondering when the really was coming) who has time for that in their day to day life? If this is a homemaker club, then I assume they are stay home moms. And as one, I want to know what the Benadryl dosage is that they are feeding their children to provide them with any kind of time to put this chi chi crap together? And these moms are everywhere! So don't think you and your neighborhood are safe! I took a foray into the PTO last year at Tabbi's school and the Alpha moms were out in force. They not only looked lovely (picture pearls and last year's Anne Taylor collection), but they had well behaved toddlers on their hips, a day planner with their luncheons laid out for months of strategic planning, and a willingness to take on every detail of the school-wide sock hop. Who wants to sew 400 poodle skirts? PICK ME, PICK ME! Are they stealing their kids' Ritalin supply or what?
I firmly believe that these PTO moms and those Marthas attending the Cookie Gala (as mine scheduled for Friday is a party, surely this one deserves a fancier name) set out to make the rest of us look inadequate. And you know what? It works. I am inadequate. I sit here blogging in my jammies at 10:52a because I am not with it enough to shower any earlier (and these jammies are not a gown of silk and lace as I can only assume theirs are... but cotton pj bottoms and a white long sleeve t shirt... yes my uniform for day and night). My laundry is piled on the laundry room floor and the cookies I made for my cookie party are chilling in a clothes box in the garage. I don't have Tupperware it will fit in. And, while they are homemade they were about as intricate as purchasing a box of Oreos. My recipe card would be hand written on a Post It, or even better, typed here with a note on the cookies that says "You wanna know... read my blog." I don't own a planner, and I have two calenders (purse size and one on the wall, which means that nothing is ever written on both. So depending on where I check, I may or may not be free tomorrow). I will not sew 400 skirts today, in fact, I will accomplish very little today, as Will keeps giving me hugs and saying "I love you more" which prompts me to stop what I am doing and hug him back and play whatever he wants for as long as he'll pay attention to me because I know these days are going to be gone way too soon. And, I will clean nothing, and cook very little and my pearls will stay on the hook in my closet because they don't go with my current look.
My existence on this earth will not serve to make anyone else feel inadequate and you know what? That's ok. I may never be the PTO Alpha mom in charge of the sock hop (and I personally believe a sock hop for our children is a pretty silly idea anyway since they have no clue what a sock hop is and their parents were too young to attend one, too) and no one will question how my burlap sack was perfectly constructed to house my delicate cranberry persimmon tartlet meringue ginger encrusted bow bon bons... but I will do my own thing today and I will have fun today. And I'll do that again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. So, beat that Momunists!