I was dropping my 10-year-old off at soccer the other night but I dragged all four kids along since my husband was traveling. We showed up at the park and the three little kids were begging me with all of their “I will not give up until I get what I want” luster to stay a little longer and play on the playground.
Alright. I obliged. I felt a little self-conscious, though, since I had not expected to do more than a drop and run. I was wearing my yoga pants (of course) and my hair was tied back haphazardly. I can deal with all that since I look like that most days. The part that left me feeling like the ugly soccer mom was the fact that I didn’t have any makeup on, but I did have a huge zit on my cheek that was screaming out for some concealer.
Oh well. I’m sure I won’t run into anyone I know anyway.
Except that never happens. Of course only when you are looking your most hideous, or having an embarrassing life moment, are you guaranteed to run into dozens of people you know. Like that time when I was in Costco 30 weeks pregnant with triplets. I was looking absurdly large and unkempt, and I couldn’t make it waddling my big body though the aisles. I got one of those motorized shopping carts that injured or elderly people use and I rode those aisles like a boss, throwing food in as I sped by. I ran into five different people I knew that day, and they all made fun of me.
Anyway, so of course I run into a fellow soccer mom who is so friendly and nice that she introduces me to her other two lady friends. We did what lady acquaintances do when they want to get to know each other better, and talked about which yoga studio we go to, which yoga instructors we like, and where our kids attend school — in that order. They were nice and I thought maybe they would be my new friends. We have so much in common, like yoga pants, downward dog and driving kids to soccer.
The ladies unfolded their soccer mom chairs on the lawn and began chatting. I went over and sat on a nearby bench because I did not have my chair. I was not expecting to stay at the park. I tried to listen in on their conversation but it was too hard with my kids always trying to ask me questions and have me do things for them.
Then one of the ladies calls my name.
“Megan! Megan!” my new potential friends called out.
I trotted over like an obedient puppy, curious about what they wanted to say to me.
“I just realized that you are neighbors with my Aunt. I remember because one time your babysitter brought them all over and they jumped in the pool with all of their clothes on,” she explained.
“Really?” I said, laughing uncomfortably. “Why would they do that?”
Before she had a chance to answer, my 10-year-old daughter came bounding up with her ball, full of energy and fire.
“Did you know my mom is a Huffington Post writer?” she interrupted, because I guess I need to tell her another four million times not to interrupt adults while they are talking.
I blushed. I don’t generally go around bragging about myself.
“Oh really?” they said, not sure what to make of it. “What do you write about?” The question was directed toward me, but my bratty adorable daughter decided to answer for me.
“She writes about her kids all the time and how much we annoy her,” she said as precociously as she could muster. I don’t know how she would even know that since I have never let my children read any of my blog posts.
“Oh, um, uh (insert uncomfortable chuckle), yes, I am a writer,” I say, looking and sounding like a total jerk store.
Glad that is over, I thought. But it wasn’t over.
“But did you know she is a SCARY MOMMY???” said my daughter.
Deer in the headlights moment. The ladies, my new potential friends, didn’t know what the hell she was saying that for.
They laughed uncomfortably.
Then my daughter said it again. “Yep she is a reeeaaaallll SCARY MOMMY!” she said all drawn out and smart assy. Clearly she was trying to make the point that not only have I written for the Scary Mommy website, but coincidentally I act like a scary mommy as well.
I didn’t know what to say so I gave them one of those “kids these days are sassy little assholes” looks.
They didn’t say a word.
Just because a million people read the articles from Scary Mommy everyday doesn’t mean these two lovely soccer moms do. It was clear they didn’t. Now they just thought my daughter and I were crazy.
I turned and walked away.
Oh well. I don’t need any more friends anyway. And we are a little crazy.
Until next time, the mothership is signing off.