Fake Moms

Mom Dating

Posted on by mypediatricpsychward

No no no. Before you get your sensible undies in a bunch, I’m not talking about cheating on my wonderful husband. I’m talking about moms meeting other awesome eligible moms to hang out with. It’s hard, but here’s my experience.

I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for nearly 10 years now. Before that I worked in an office with real adults, most of whom were pretty cool and some are still dear friends. When you go from going into work every day, interacting with adults, getting to go to the bathroom by yourself and actually sitting down to eat your lunch of adult food (rather than standing at the kitchen island, yelling at your kids, “sit on your bottom and eat your lunch already” while you graze on their leftovers of PBJ, mac & cheez and whatever other hell they demanded)– to the craziness of stay-at-home motherhood, it’s a bit of a culture shock. At work, friendships just came naturally. By working along side people, suffering through hellish trade shows together or joining them for a Starbucks run when you just needed to get away — friendships were just an organic part of work life.

Once I left the (paid) workforce and started being a stay-at-home mom, I found myself feeling isolated — almost like being single again. Where do you go to meet other moms like you? This was new territory and I felt lost. Frankly I still feel lost most times. When you have a newborn, no one wants to be your friend because you are a hot mess of horror-mones, exhaustion, dirty laundry, baby poop/puke/pee and stench from not showering since…when did I last shower?

Then you finally get your shit together, your baby’s sleeping for more than 10 minutes at a time and you’ve managed to find an outfit with minimal spit-up on it, some mascara and concealer for the permanent bags under your eyes, and somehow got a brush through your hair (whatever’s left of it since most of it fell out the day after you gave birth.) Okay. Check the mirror — “Meh. It’ll do. Okay! Let’s find some new mommy friends!” But where do you start to look for these elusive creatures? “Target! I’ll go to Target! Moms are always at Target!”

So off you go, pray that your baby sleeps through the excursion and you find yourself lost in the wonder that is Target…”Why am I here?” And then you crash into another bleary-eyed mombie as you round the end cap. One of your babies wakes up, hungrier than a bear in spring time and just like that, it’s mission: failure. Boobs begin leaking, both babies are now screaming. Stick a fork in it. You’re done.

Fast forward a few more months and hooray! Your kid’s old enough so you can join a Mommy & Me class and you think, “Maybe today’s the day!” You look around, assess the pool of friend candidates and start categorizing:mommy & me

High Maintenance Barbie (HMB): She just got out of the salon blow-out look, perfectly coordinated (and clean) clothes, full make-up, has pre-baby body completely back, her child is in head-to-toe Gap with so-cute baby Uggs and NorthFace jacket. Nope. This is the adult version of the popular girls in high school who never talked to me. Why would she start now?! I mean look at me!

Nutty Crunchy: She’s cool and calm, sans make-up but still gorgeous, you know everything in her house is either organic or home-grown (I bet she composts!) A plastic Target bag has never touched her hand. Did she vaccinate??? I’m guessing not. Also her kid is blowing snot bubbles while he mouths every single toy that my kid wants. Nope. Keep your organic Typhoid Jimmy germs back on the farm, lady.

Turbo Hot Mess: She’s the one who came screeching in on two stroller wheels, 15 minutes late, her kid’s lost one shoe and has a bewildered yet happy look on his face, clinging to his SnackEEZ of Cheerios and milk for dear life. She’s bubbly and perky, apologizes profusely for her even being there. Don’t brush her off just yet. She has potential…and frankly, you’re probably a lot like her too.

THE ONE: And there she is. Quietly sitting there, taking it all in. She’s pulled together, but not pretentious like HMB. You see an open bag of non-organic, non-whole-wheat Gold Fish in her diaper bag and an empty Starbucks cup stashed in the bottle pocket. Excellent! Then Miss NC is telling the story of her amazing doula-assisted natural pond birth and how she framed the placenta for the nursery. And then you see it. TO rolls her eyes so far back in her head she can see herself think. BINGO! She is MY KIND OF MOM.

Okay. What do I do next?? I’m a mental hot mess with thoughts racing through my head, “Okay. Play it cool. Make eye contact…but not too much eye contact because then she’ll think you’re crazy/needy/stalkery…okay…but don’t look away too much because then she’ll think you’re snobby.” [Deep breaths]

You casually make your way over to sit by her after a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosey (I am sooo smooth!) You start chatting, she says something mildly snarky and funny, you say something funny and witty back, she laughs and just like that, you’re head-over-heels in love.

Okay. Make your move. You can do it. Ask her for her cell phone number and maybe you can meet up at the park — you’ll bring Starbucks! She enters her name and number into your phonebook and you send her a text with your digits. BOOM! You did it! Now you can hardly contain your excitement enough to make it through the Good-Bye Song because you’re dying to get home so you can Facebook stalk her and see if she’s the real deal.

And that, my friends, is how it’s done. You’re welcome.

False Advertising: I Call BS, Teddy Ruxpin!

Posted on by mypediatricpsychward

Do you remember “Teddy Ruxpin” — that talking teddy bear who kept hounding you to be his friend like some creepy little stalker? Even though I was a bit too old for him when he originally came out, I’m distressed to see that little bastard is back.

Yeah. And have you seen the commercial for him? I most likely saw it between nail-biting, pivotal episodes of Paw Patrol. Yeah. I really need to address our family’s TV watching habits. But I digress. In case you haven’t seen it, here it is:

There are just so many things wrong with this commercial, I think I got a cramp. Where do I even begin?! Well, here I go:

The Setting:

A cozy living room which children have never stepped foot in. EVER. Notice the WHITE carpeting, the WHITE couch with perfectly fluffed throw pillows, the jauntily draped throw blanket. Nope. NOT REAL.

REAL would be white carpeting that looks like a crime scene, complete with juice box spills, ground-in goldfish crackers, random illegible graffiti (God help me that better not be Sharpie!) and random brown stains of dubious origin. REAL would be throw pillows all on the floor, some with feathers coming out, fringe shredded. REAL would be a couch that looks like someone had a food fight on it. And that throw? Nope. Destroyed, stuffed under a couch cushion, or hidden in someone’s room so another sibling couldn’t call dibs on it. And not that you’d be able to tell from a TV commercial, but I guarantee you it had an unsettling smell that you just can’t quite place.

And where are the other toys? Don’t these kids every PLAY fer crissake? Where are the 80,000 foot-crippling Legos, half-naked dolls, 20 lightsabers, random game pieces, leaking sippy cups and goddamnit! THAT’S what those jerks did with my nail polish!!!

So no. That home has never been stepped foot in by anyone under the age of 27.

The Kids:

Don’t you think for one second that those children are not heavily sedated. And you know their moms are behind the camera giving them withering, one eyebrow raised glares that say, “Don’t even THINK about misbehaving or so help me GOD you will never see an electronic device as long as I’m alive!”

Really. And a group of five perfectly groomed children all smiling and sitting crisscross applesauce at the same time, patiently waiting their turn to press Teddy’s paw? No. Never. Try five crying, screaming nightmares, demanding, “NO! I get to go first!” or “Teddy’s Ruxpin is stupid and so are you!” Or how about, “Hey Sam, where does your dad keep the chainsaws? Let’s play chainsaws!” That damned bear wouldn’t be in one piece for for more than 2 minutes in the hands of those kids, much less chainsaw wielding ones.

And I’ve saved the best for last.

The Mom:

Totally not real. I bet she’s never even had a kid! Look at her: freshly showered, straightened hair, flawless makeup, WHITE pants (White pants? Are you INSANE lady? What is your freaky obsession with white?!) And she sits there primly enjoying a cup of herbal tea, overjoyed to see this over-medicated playdate happily playing for hours with a toy she shelled $100 for.

No. No. Real would be: Shower? *sniff* nah. I’m good for another day or two. Hair? Oh yeah. I suppose I better make an appointment for my annual root touch-up and trim. Make-up? Unless I’ve splurged on a sitter so I can go on a date night with my husband, odds are it’s not happening — maybe some mascara if I’m feeling particularly fancy that day, like if I get to go to Target or something. The WHITE pants? *sigh* When’s the last time I owned a pair of white pants that even made it out of the bag without some stain on them? Black yoga pants it is!

And what is she even doing being in the same ROOM with these monsters??!! If I’m going to fork over $100, that better buy me at LEAST 1 hour where I can flop on the couch by myself and screw around on Facebook while I chow down on food that I have hidden from my kids. That mug? Oh yeah. There better damned well be hot, freshly-brewed coffee in it at a minimum. Liquor if we’re truly getting real here.

No. I don’t think I could be friends with this woman. God knows she’d never speak to the hot sexy mess that I am either.

So Teddy Ruxpin. Not happening for me. I guarantee you it would be shoved in the bottom of a toy bin, quietly plotting on ways to come to life in the middle of the night, “Will you be my friend?????”

No. Just. No.