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?

The Overprotective Single Mommy

Parenting magazines can be positive resources. Divorced five years, I have yet to find a helpful article on when to introduce kids to a potential romantic interest. Perhaps there is a “Leave it to Beaver” or “Cosby” complex. It seems articles in leading parenting magazines focus on married couples raising their kids in idyllic families. Perfect pictures, perfect ideas and perfect solutions.

I have news, folks. Parenting is never perfect. Children are never perfect. Mine, well, they are amazing. But, they are far from perfect. Shhhh…don’t tell them, it would break their little hearts! Just kidding. They know they are not perfect. They know I am not perfect. They do, however, feel perfectly loved. It was no great surprise to me that after their daddy got engaged two years ago, they became more vocal about wanting someone else to love me, too.

Even with the best co-parenting situation possible, divorce brings a litany of issues to single parents. When their father left me, my son was 2 1/2 and my daughter was on the verge of her first birthday. The list of challenges was greater than the echo of screaming guests on The Jerry Springer Show. For me, one of the biggest questions was if and when I would introduce other men to my children. My immediate and emotional response was that no one needed to meet my children for “X” period of time. I was going to protect my babies, dammit! I had 873 excellent reasons to not let any man meet my children, in particular. I was the poster child of The Overprotective Single Mommy. Worse, I was expressing prejudice between men and women.

I was wrong. Oh, boy, was I wrong! (Go ahead, write the date down!)

Quickly, sanity returned and forced me to realize my own hypocrisy. If someone was good enough to spend time with me, they needed to be good enough to meet my kids. Male or female. I am the first to admit this helped me make wiser choices on the front end of many a friendship and relationship. While I have friends who are not particularly in love with the idea of kids, or have any of their own, almost all have met my children. Often, those are the relationships I most enjoy watching flourish.

Come on, people! Meeting someone’s children is not the equivalent of forming an insta-family. You don’t take a single parent, add kids, another single person and have a family. Spending time with someone’s children is not a life-long commitment. It is, however, an opportunity to learn more about your friend, more about their children or possibly, something FROM the children. It is hilarious to me that I can send a man packing faster than a hooker drops her panties on a Saturday night with a simple sentence. “Would you like to hang out with me and the kids?” Any man who sees a box of Insta-Family when he hears that question likely has much bigger issues.

It seems to me those men are getting way *cough* a-head of themselves!

Children do observe both the positive and the negative. If they never meet your friends, it seems to me they lose the best example of how to have a healthy friendship. If they don’t witness conflict, they don’t learn from experience how to resolve them. My kids have learned many valuable lessons from meeting those in my life, whether romantic interests or not.

They learn that people are different. They learn acceptance. They learn that people come and go. My initial fear was simple. “What if I introduce him to my kids and they miss him when we break up?” What? Talk about projection. Yes, that kind of thing happens all the time. But, what was I really afraid of? That my kids would learn that people come and go out of our lives? It has proven to be a positive lesson for them. For example, they have learned you don’t have to see your friends every single day for them to be your friends. They have learned it is okay to meet people and not necessarily like them. Ultimately, they have met many people and have only ever missed one or two.

In five years, my kiddos have only seen me romantically involved with three or four men. A peck on the cheek was the most they ever witnessed with one of those men. Only four times have they ever seen a man spend the night in our home, usually at their encouragement. Only twice have they ever known me to share my bed with man. Don’t get the wrong idea. They have never come into mommy’s room and seen naked people! In fact, both times I was wearing pajamas and the arrangement appeared innocuous. The added bonus for me is that I will never have to deal with my kids not knowing or liking someone I may choose to have a relationship with in the future.

My kiddos do not see a revolving door of men coming in and out of my life. What they know is a wide variety of wonderful men and women who happen to embrace all of us. It makes them more a “part of” instead of “apart from” another side to their mom. They have learned the abundant joy of true friends and are grateful we share them.

How do you feel about it? Just once, I would love for someone to convince me of a few good reasons a man would not wish to meet a woman’s children, or why a woman should not introduce others to them. Any takers? If you are a single parent, what prevents you from introducing your offspring to others?

Talking About the Purple Pegasus in the Room

Dear Eve,

The Halloween costume catalog arrived several days ago, and of course my two young sons began to go through it the moment I brought it into the house. My youngest predictably chose something from the Star Wars page, but my oldest son surprised my wife and me when he chose “Sparkles, the Purple Pegasus” as his coveted costume. Eve, I want to believe I am a tolerant man, but I just don’t know what to do here! Can I send my 5 year old son off to Kindergarten as “Sparkles?” What will people think? Hell, I don’t even know what I think! Is my boy gay? I’m trying not to act freaked out but I am freaked out!

Thank you, Struggling to be Progressive

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Infidelity Fallout

I suppose there was always a part of me that knew my (ex) husband was not the faithful kind. Okay, scratch that…99% of me was certain of that fact. After all, I did have a moment of panic as I stood with my father, preparing to take that long walk down that flower encrusted isle, when I said to him, “can I change my mind, daddy?” Thinking I was joking, he replied, “My deposit on this place is nonrefundable.” I laughed (so as not to cry) and we stepped out as the first notes of ‘In My Life’ began to play.

And just like that, I began one of the darker periods in mine.

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Lessons Learned From Thing One and Thing Two

Some (of the many) things my children have taught me:

1. Unconditional love does exist outside of Hollywood movies. And its completely worth the hype.

2. They are ALWAYS listening and they will repeat what you say (i.e. mom wants a quiet vibrator for her birthday) to an inappropriate person (i.e. your father) at an inopportune time (i.e. the family 4th of July BBQ).

3. When you hear “oops” come from behind a closed bathroom door a mere second after the flush…it’s too late. Just get the plunger. And the mop.

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