good morning! have a latte on me was what the note sitting on top of the Starbucks card sitting on top of my van’s driver’s seat read. sometimes it’s just the little things.
so, while i enjoy my grande nonfat latte on the husband, i thought i could talk to you about The moms.
The Vibe moms. also known as The Carpool moms, depending on the day of the week. interchangeable. they have brown hair. all of them. it’s either curly or stick-straight-from-the-salon straight. they each carry a version of a coach bag, in various colors and sizes. they are each wearing an identical lululemon pants and zip up hoodie combo. their nails are always perfectly done, and pretty much always the same shade – this month they are wearing a really, really, really dark red, almost black. they each have a toddler in tow, and always have the right amount of snacks and sippy cups in their designer diaper bags. they answer their blackberries every 45 seconds, and it’s always a call from another friend, to make plans for lunch. or coffee. or playdates. They’ve known each of for-like-ever, it’s obvious. They talk about their cruises and their SUVs (or their Siennas, which seems to be the minivan of choice)
on thursdays at Vibe, the girls’ dance school, i deposit the girls at their respective doors and take my seat on one of the chairs. in the Vibe mom hot zone. They always look at me, in my skirt and heels and obvious work attire. in my non-coach bag and non-lululemon anything. hoo boy do they look at me. up and down. down and up. they never talk to me. ever. even though some of us have kids in the same class at school, or girls in the same hip hop class.
the truth is, i’m usually happy to do my own thing. to play sudoku on my ipod touch (because there’s no bloody wi-fi in the Vibe studio so i couldn’t possibly do something productive. grr) to run next door to the dollar store to spend $5 on 5 things i absolutely do not need…but huzzah! it’s $5! how can i say no?! to whip out a possible grade 6 read-aloud i’m reviewing for work. to run down to Tim Hortons (which, ps, my daughter Isabella calls ‘Timportant’ – how AWESOME is that??!?!) to grab a coffee.
but a smile would be nice. a hi. a wave. a “so, does your daughter dance to timbaland in the mirror all the livelong day too?” i’d even take a classic head nod of acknowledgment…but all i’ve ever gotten, from any of them, is the stare. the i’m silently judging you stare.
is there a secret code? how do you crack into the mommy club? if i tell them that i’m silently judging them too, do you think that will let me in? i mean, i could tell them that Coach purses went out of style two years ago. or that an all lululemon outfit is just wrong, wrong, wrong. see? i can totally be one of them! (the truth, though? i don’t really want to be one of them).
but for now, i’ll just drink my latte and watch my daughter dance her little heart out and know that The Moms are totally jealous of my awesome legs. and ass. and hair. and you just know they are dying to find out where i got my Jessica Simpson shoes (because, yes! even though Jessica Simpson is a total douche most of the time, she makes surprisingly AWESOME shoes. Even Whoorl thinks so). and they are probably dying to have a place to wear ’em. at least that’s what i’ll keep telling myself.
65