As I’ve gotten older, I’m not sure if I’ve gotten, well, bitchier, or if I’ve just learned that I don’t play well with other Moms.
Actually, that’s not exactly true. I actually get along very well with other Moms, especially if they have a bit of a twisted sense of humour. I have friends who are very proper, some who aren’t, and some who I worry I’m too boring for. I have friends who are very religious, very not religious, and somewhere in between. Friends who send their kids to public school, private school, home school, and unschool. So, it’s not that I don’t play well with others, it’s that I don’t play well with certain others.
The S’Mother: This Mom makes helicopter parents look downright negligent. She insists on cutting up her child’s food, and will attempt to feed it to them…and the child is 15. Jr is never, ever allowed to play anywhere that the S’Mother can’t carefully supervise. A tumble on grass means an ER trip for fear of concussion, brain damage, and death. S’Mother is happiest when Jr is seated safely on the couch next to her, where she can monitor his breathing. Her child never gets a cold. It’s quadruple pneumonia. Or Ebola. Or an undiscovered life altering disease. Until the Dr says otherwise, and what does he know anyways?
The Earth Mother: She constantly lectures others on their global footprints, talks about how badly the Earth is under attack from humans, and all the poisons in our Earth, air and water. She not only uses cloth diapers, but family cloth instead of toilet paper, which she weaves from her own organically raised cotton and silk worms. Essential oils cure all the things! She’s prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse, because she has her essential oils. Broke a leg? A little essential oil will heal that instantly! Well, that and an electronic free, gluten-free, dairy free, sugar-free, vegan, homespun, organic, free range, grown on her own acreage, tended to by elves, fairies, and watered with unicorn tears, lifestyle. Except for her SUV.
Helpless Waif: This mother is the nicest, sweetest person…and seems completely baffled, overwhelmed, and confused by this whole parenting gig. Rules? What rules? She can’t possibly say no to her children! That would make them sad. And sad is bad. Children should never, ever be sad. Every time a child is sad, an angel loses its wings. When she witnesses her child smacking another at the park with a shovel, the Helpless Waif flutters her hands and whispers imploringly, “Play nice, Tommy!” and utters a trilling laugh. The two-year old blinks at her, and then whacks the other kid again. Waifs are especially challenged by a child saying no. “He won’t do any chores!” she wails. Suggestions for the child to lose privileges or be grounded are met by horrified gasps. That might upset the child! Nooooo!
Speshul Snoughflaykes: I have to be honest, of all the Mothers, this one is probably my arch nemesis. Nothing makes me crazier, faster than the Speshul Snoughflayke. These are the Moms whose kids are THE MOST. The MOST intelligent. The MOST athletic. The MOST talented. Her fetus already has Harvard, Yale, and Oxford competing for it. Mozart was a talentless hack compared to her six-year-old. Einstein was an idiot compared to her twelve-year-old. Yeah, the same twelve-year-old that still eats his own boogers. This is the Mom that will argue with a coach in the middle of the game, and who claims that any time her child doesn’t win, it’s due to jealousy. Her six-year-old can’t do a somersault, but it’s because other mothers are jealous that the child isn’t on the competitive gymnastics team. And why her 12-year-old is failing every subject at school, because the teachers are just too stupid to teach him the right way. They don’t understand him.
So, if you’re ok with kids being loud, playing hard, maybe getting dirty, eating an occasional (non organic) popsicle, being their imperfect, mischievous, childish selves, talking about the ups and downs of parenting, not afraid to admit to, (and laugh at) your mistakes and mine, c’mon over. I’ve got the coffee on. I may even have cheesecake. Cause Mom friends rock.