It was only a matter of time before I found myself there.
I’ve done it again. Violated code 5729ab section i of the “Good Mom” code. The one that says THOU SHALT NOT REFUSE TO BRING YOUR CHILD A HEALTHY LUNCH WHEN HE HAS LEFT THE ONE YOU LOVINGLY PACKED IN THE BACK SEAT.
I should have known better. It’s a Jewish school. I could have seen this coming. I could have predicted myself standing in the school atrium, a veritable town square, stale hunks of challah being hurled at me as the other moms clucked their tongues and held their children a little closer to keep them safe. I’m the mom that would let her child starve. Look away bubelas!
Every school has their “thing”. The last school we attended was a Waldorf school. Their anti media policy was so strict that my daughter was once sent home for wearing a tee shirt that had a tiny image of Snufflelugas in the design by the hem. My son had to turn his nature print camo print pants inside out and I don’t want to talk about the looks I got the time I brought halloween cupcakes with sprinkles. It was a scandal.
By now we’ve attended enough schools that I’m tougher than I once was. I’m able to stick to my own principals (if you want to eat, remember to bring your lunch) and not be phased by others. But it was a big problem for the school apparently. They recently instituted a “no free lunch – just guilt the parents” policy which really wasn’t working when it came to my son. They were somewhat flummoxed but the idea of letting him go hungry. I got interrogated about why I could not take off two hrs in the middle of my workday on a rainy Wednesday when I had two appointments and a conference call (and three other kids at three other schools to pick up) and where my husband was (San Francisco – too far for a drive by) and where the grandparents were (Atlanta, and not up for the 405 in the pouring rain in their 80s). After phoning me they phoned my husband. He was still in San Francisco. They were stumped. They fed him, for which I am grateful. But also kind of wish he’d gone hungry this once.
It all ended well. I had some great conversations about the predicament on Twitter and I guess my time in the Mom Stockades wasn’t all that bad. For now…
I still have to explain to the moms in my daughter’s musical theater class why we haven’t had time for professional head shots and a voice coach to help her prepare for her upcoming audition for the school of the arts. Who know what they’ll do to me? They’ll probably throw the Playbill at me.
Mom’s are everyone’s favorite target, even other moms. I’m tired of being chastised for being too soft or too hard or whatever…8 years after crying about the aunties telling me what to eat for breastmilk i’m still trying to grow my mama-balls.
Reading about your experiences is part of that process.