Monday, September 12, 2011

The Momunists

There are days, like today, where I feel like no matter how old I get or what I do with my life, I am stuck permanently back in middle school. No, it is not because Tabbi's 7th grade experiences are bringing back vivid memories, but because no matter where I go and what I do... I cannot escape "those girls." But today, instead of mean girls, pop tarts, or whatever we dubbed them at Bett Middle, they are what I call "The Momunists."

I blogged about them a long time ago here, but I have found that now that I have a kid in 7th, a kid in Kindergarten and a kid in preschool... they are everywhere! I am sure you know them, too, but just in case.... here's how you spot them. At the bus stop, they will be the ones in the yoga pants and sports bras or Under Armour shirts, just waiting for little Kiki or Maxwell the 3rd to climb onto the bus so they may plug in their iPods and jog the day away. At the school, they are the ones hugging the principal and calling her by her first name, and then greeting each lunch lady and janitor with a polite "you are less than me, but I will appear to be benevolent" nod. At sporting events, they are the ones with their daughter's name on their sport specific t-shirts, and at all outside of school events like PTO, they are the ones running the show.

Here's how they can tell you are not one of them. 1. You are always either under or over dressed. At the bus stop you are wearing capris and a t shirt, and let's get serious... the only place you are jogging is to the bathroom during The View's commercial breaks. During outside of school events, you wear your normal style, whereas they don Land's End polos and matching khaki shorts and look at your sequined "I wish I was from Jersey" sweater with disdain and whisper "I bet that's not even Eddie Bauer." 2. Your son's name is written on his backpack with Sharpie, not embroidered and express shipped from L.L.Bean. 3. Your son has a temporary tattoo of some sort of dinocrocmonsterturtle on his forearm, and has for the past 4 weeks. 4. At sporting events, you are the one wearing whatever you had been wearing all day, and sweating like a pig trying to keep Jack from tumbling down the bleachers and Will from yelling "TABBI RULES" right as the other team serves. 5. At PTO, you are the one again wearing something either too casual or too formal, and trying to get involved, but your ideas are shot down in order to have a "sock hop" which both you and the kids attending are too young to appreciate for the nostaglia and retro factor, plus you are the mother of a robust little boy who isn't interested in dancing the jitter bug or whatever they did in bobby socks days.

These creatures kept me out of PTO when Tabbi was in elementary school, and I find myself shrinking into the background again. Rarely do I walk into a world where I feel "less than" others, but there is something about these Stepford moms. While I strive to be involved in the kids' schools, I don't want to be a part of their regime. But I kind of wish that my exclusion was on my terms and not theirs. Then again, there is one benefit to being on the outside looking in. I am not being forced to wear a poodle skirt any time soon.

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