It’s official! The girl child is my last child. I had been thinking for years we might be able to squeeze in a third child; but when your two other kids are already thirteen and a half years apart in age, you start to realize that maybe adding a third is not the most practical thing. Never mind that the girl child is spirited as fuck and that the college boy is in his third year of college which means in a few years I could theoretically end up being Grammy BGIM.
Knowing now that this is my last dance with childhood, I have been eager to embrace everything about the girl’s childhood days and lately that has meant signing up to be uber involved at her school. Sure my professional life is busy, I mean running a rapidly growing agency whose revenue and budget has more than doubled since I took over is no cake walk but let me say running a non-profit is no match for the mommydom.
Mommy-dom, is no joke! You know the moms, you see them hanging around the school when you drop by in a hurry. They are the ones on a first name joking around basis with the principal and teachers. They are the moms that know everything, hell they might know more than the teachers because the Mommy-dom has the all-seeing eye.
Well, this school year I made the decision that I wanted to be the class mom and I joined the PTO and now I am wondering what the hell was I thinking. I am sad to say it does not appear that I have made the cut to be class mom, guess it’s the fact that I can’t come in weekly to stuff envelopes or maybe I am not perky enough. Or maybe I am simply not thin or blond enough since no matter what the lovely Mommy-dom says, Mommy-dom is a club, a clique and all the members look the same.
My first PTO meeting was ahem…interesting, turns out I did know some of the other Moms but overall the meeting was awkward. For starters, can’t we have the meeting someplace with full size seats? Seriously. The meeting was held in one of the classrooms at the girl child’s school; by the way the school only has grades K-2, which means the seats are tiny. I am pretty sure it’s no accident that all the Mommy-dom is super thin. Shit, us ladies of the fluff were dying in those little ass seats. I caught the eye of another fluffy mom and we both had the same pained look of when is this shit going to end?
I also learned that the Mommy-dom is gender segregated, one dad showed up, a dad that I actually know and like, poor fella got some serious side eye. Funny thing is the meeting opened up with the PTO president telling us all we were all welcomed and that the PTO is not a club but open to anyone…oh really? *side eye*
So the PTO’s main focus here in BGIM land is to raise lots of money so our kiddos can have cool enrichment experiences. Experiences that include learning about recycling, visiting with wild animals and meeting authors, can’t quibble with that. The downside is raising money, but hey this year we aren’t selling Yankee Candles, instead we will push spaghetti, hawk Scholastic books and some poor soul will clip box tops. In almost 21 years of parenting, I had no idea that box tops were so valuable.
Now that I have immersed myself in all things Mommy-dom related I am starting to think it probably is a good thing that this is the last kid, dealing with the Mommy-dom again would just be bad. In the meantime, here’s hoping I don’t get placed on box top duty.
PS: After posting this, I started to feel bad thinking maybe I was being a tad harsh and that I had not given the fine Mommy’s of Mommy-dom a fair chance. After all, I have only gone to the first meeting of the school year and been bombarded with emails. Fate intervened and several hours after writing this post, I found myself at the local bakery with the seven year old. While standing in line waiting for the clerk to finish making my latter, who walks in? None other than the president of the PTO and her kiddo, she proceeds to stand behind me in the line and promptly ignore me. After getting my drink and my change and turning around so that we briefly faced each other, she gave me the once over and ignored me. OK, I see you and see how you work, have no fear I am a glutton for punishment and most likely will be back, since as I told a friend who asked me why in the middle of a hectic period professionally, would I torture myself like this. The bottom line is that in small town Maine, being involvement means access to information and I like information, so stay tuned to future posts about how BGIM does the PTO. (I know it…it sounds dirty)