The Mom Squad

I don’t have what some would call a ‘conventional’ job. Yet, as in any job, whether it’s stuck at a cubicle, in a warehouse or driving a bus; there appears to be an ever present sub-culture that seems to go out of their way to make your day miserable. I don’t have to deal with the office suck up, catty secretary pool or even inappropriate water cooler jokes. Which, who are we kidding? I would so be the person telling inappropriate water cooler jokes!

I do have, however, the dreaded clique often referred to as The Mommy Police. I don’t have any children. I tell you this because it’s the first thought that pops into my head the second I choose to open my mouth and judge an actual parent. Being someone that works with children every day, I am keenly aware that when I leave for home at the end of the day the little ones are not held up in a sparkly crystal case until I return. That said, back to being judgmental. Yay!

Any new park or playground I visit, I make an effort to identify them immediately. They aren’t exactly an elusive bunch, or maybe my radar skills have increased over the years. They’re a tight knit group of wealthy, stay at home, neatly and permanently pressed, sweater wearing beasts. You’ll find them parked on the bench farthest away from their children, forcing them to yell and screech their child’s names at a decibel akin to a pterodactyl. They are the dark cloud over a Happy Place.

Oh, yes! The children! You know those richly dressed miserable mopes that are left to their own devices? That’s them. They could all dangle from the monkey bars by one foot as long as there is a gated fence, and they don’t interrupt the Mommies conversation about thread counts. ‘Your snack is in the bag! No, we are not going home, and you are not tired! Run off and find your sister this instant!’ Charming.

I’ve managed to avoid many a confrontation with these Mommy types all over the city. Mostly because I make them think the sun shines out of my ass. Learning how to appease their massive egos has saved me a lot of grief. I say nothing, bite my tongue, and nod my head. I mean really, they’ve been ALL over the city and they still can’t find a decent patio umbrella! Don’t get me started on the lack of proper woodworkers on The Cape…their cabinets at the beach house are practically 10 years old! Oh, the shame!

What saddens me about these women is that they truly do not enjoy their own children. It’s a very fancy form of neglect. Dress them up nice for strangers, and then treat them as such. Children seem to be the tools of their marriages. An excuse to seem terribly busy, even though they had a Baby Nurse, a Night Nurse and a part time underpaid Nanny they treat as a slave.

I’m not necessarily proud of myself for all the tongue biting. I’d really like to scold every last one of them for their bullshit attitude towards those ‘things‘ scampering around at their heels. Until then, I will smile, nod, and dream about a day where I line them all up, and give them one long Three Stooges slap across their perfectly shaped hair-dos.

Welcome to the weekend boys and girls! Is your work week over? Anyone you are looking to avoid come Monday morning? Dear, God! Am I the only one who has been subjected to the Mommy Police?