Remember back in high school when the cafeteria was separated by type? As in… the cheerleader type, the nerdy type, the athletic type, the burnout type, the trenchcoat type. And each type or “clique,” or group, or whatever you want to call it, was unmistakable not only by outward appearance, but also the ultimate hierarchical tool –location of their lunch table. Of course there were those who claimed independent, but we called them the “floater” type. They were welcome at anyone’s table… but not for longer than 10 minutes at a time before they floated elsewhere.
Well, as it turns out, this same concept rings true in the mommy world. Only the playing field is not made up of rectangular pizza on bespeckled lunch trays and oddly similarly bespeckled tile flooring. Our arena is the local park, and the “types” all go by the same name… Mommy.
There’s the “Overly Prepared” type– She has a miniature bottle of Germ-X carabiner clipped to every mobile member of her growing family, all of which have their shirt tails tucked in and their sneakers double-knotted. She has hand warmer packets in her wipes pouch so little Jeremy gets his boogers swiped with a warm wipe. You’ll recognize her by her reasonable cardigan and the extra ones she has draped over her arm for each child, just in case. She has a triple stroller bigger than my garage and a portable fruit dehydrator in the center console of her Windstar. I am not this mom.
Then there’s the “Forgot Everything Do You Have an Extra” type. She has a $412 diaper bag… that is apparently empty. She will ask for a spare wipe. No probsies. She will inquire of an extra cereal bar/fruit roll-up/sandwich/what-have-you for little Kylie-Marie. Of course! She will at some point need you to hold baby Fletcher while she digs for a back-up bib, which she of course has forgotten. Can’t help ya there, sorry. But, ma’am? Did you bring anything? I mean anything besides 3 designer clothing clad tots under age 4 and an iPhone? I am not this mom.
My least favorite of the mom types might be the “More Granola than Quaker” type. Although I find them fascinating, the irritating tends to outweigh the fascinating by a landslide most days. Everything in their hemp-woven diaper satchel is stamped either “holistic” or “organic” and they rave about the sheer environmental decency of cloth diapering. You’ll recognize them by their sensible shoes, Nalgene bottle of all natural green tea, and the 6 year old they’re breastfeeding. It’s good for them, you know. And don’t you know little Jaqueline (Not EVER EVER Jackie, just so you know) dressed herself today? Gee, I wondered why she had her shirt on backwards and 2 different shoes on… can’t hamper her divine right to express her individuality… at age 3. They reject social norms… such as little girls playing with dolls and little boys pushing around dump trucks. Because this ruins their ability to make choices and be free of social bias. I am NOT this mom. (But I do like to sit next to her and watch her cringe as I give Zac a second packet of Sponge-Bob fruit snacks and a sip of my <GASP> diet Coke.)
The funny part about mommys? We very rarely recognize our own type. If you just read this and laughed because you could think of a few moms you’ve encountered at the park that fit these descriptions, then you’re probably in the clear. Congratulations, you may float. If you can’t think of a single soul like these types… you probably are one. Muuaaahahahaha…