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Thursday, March 30, 2006
THOSE "OTHER" MOMS
What if we didn't have to make friends with the other moms?
Isa started preschool awhile back. She loves it. Her teachers are fabulous, and the whole environment rocks. It's like camp everyday, complete with brownies, water play and someone to cheer you on while you pee in the communal potty. There's just one problem for me. The other mommies. I feel..hmmm...what is the word - uncomfortable around them, I guess. Not because they all look like Lisa Rinna or Sharon Stone (okay, they do sorta look like this, and I do sorta want to confront them with, "Get serious, ladies! Manolo Blahniks and Channel sunglasses to play in the sand?") I think the uncomfortable-ness is there because we have absolutely nothing in common. Where they have nannies 24/7 and quite enjoy it, I have a babysitter a few mornings a week for a few hours - half of which is taken up with convincing Isa that I will in fact be back downstairs in a couple hours - and feel guilty about it the entire time. To the other mommies it's far more important to be back in their size zero Seven jeans three days after giving birth, while I believe it's infinitely more wise to eat my weight in Krispy Kremes while breastfeeding - (all to make sure my baby gets lots of fat, of course.) To the other moms, an outing with the kids might be lunch at Spago and shopping at Barneys, while I like the park or pick-yer-own strawberries at the farm.
Now this is not to say that my choices are any better than theirs (puh leeeze) - just different. So hanging out together is weird and uncomfortable, to say the least. The thing is though, our kids don't get these differences yet (baring the one 3 year old, who announced to Isa's class that she was wearing Channel Red nail polish that day.) At this age, they have no clue about status - like whose Mommy drives a Honda SUV (me) and whose mommy/nanny drives a Mercedes SUV (almost everyone else.) The kids just want to play with their friends. Scheduled Playdates. Which means you have to decide who's house your going to. Hmmm, will it be Laura's dog hair infested home with the fourteen piles of dirty laundry in the living room, or Kendra's Greek revival Mansion with the Olympic-size swimming pool, pasty and polished white everything, that's just "this close" to Bel Air and the killer school district. It's not fun either way, so who cares, right?
There we are....Kendra's exquisitely beautiful mommy, and me in my sweats sit down together over passion fruit iced tea and attempt to have a conversation.
"Nope, I know nothing about Botox."
"Nope, don't have a winter retreat."
"Seriously? Your neighbors swing? We're not talking about the kind out back, are we?"
(ACK! What time is it?)
Or maybe - just maybe - Kendra's mom is working or at the spa or sweating it up at Tae Bo. Maybe, this time I'll get lucky. Maybe THIS time, I'll get the nanny. Ahhhhh, Margerta...she's wonderful. Smart, funny, loves Americal Idol. I can see it now....She makes virgin pina coladas, guacamole and chips, and we gorge ourselves while the kids play in the hanger-size playroom........
posted by Laura Wright at 7:18 AM
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2 Comments:
Playground Monitor said...
But has Kendra's mom had her name on the front cover of a romance novel?????
Stuff can be gone in a heartbeat. Just ask those in the path of Katrina. Or a tornado. Or a California mudslide or wildfire. But a strong relationship with your child, built while playing in the park or giggling while you eat as many strawberries as you put in the basket, will last a lifetime.
Krispy Kreme! Right on, sister!
Marilyn
1:55 PM
Latesha said...
Laura,
You sound like the cooler mom to me. You're more interested in having fun with your child and teaching values. Who needs to know what kind of nail polish is being worn at 3 years of age? And parents wonder why kids have such issues today.
Keep up the great work that you do.
7:22 PM
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