The Mom I'm Not

The Anarchist and the Dictator mix
with granola babies and Brits at
My Urban Toddler.

A few days ago I took the Dictator and the Anarchist on a play date to My Urban Toddler (in rural Saline, strangely enough) with my friend and her daughters--we'll call them The Mini Mommy and the Bitty Bruiser for simplicity's sake.  My Urban Toddler is a pricey baby boutique with an amazing kids' play area attached...or an amazing kids' play area with a pricey baby boutique attached...however you choose to view it.  Parents come, bring their 1-5 year olds, and supposedly relax while their kids play.  It's a prime location for people watching, and I observed the manifold variations in parenting style and ways of being "Mom."  I'm not sure how I fit into the whole world of Moms, but what I can tell you is the kind of Mom I'm not:


The Ambitious Mom:

My friend (Mini Mommy and Bitty Bruiser's mom) is an Ambitious Mom.  She has lots of amazing ideas of fun, creative adventures for her children, and she's actually willing to plan and follow through, bringing other moms and kids into the fray of joyous chaos and discovery.  Her idea of a fun day off from work is going to a free kid's story time at the coffee shop, running some errands, going out to lunch with the kids/their friends, shopping, darting off to the zoo for a quick jaunt, meeting up for a play date and somehow finding time for dinner.  I don't know how she does it.

My idea of a nice day is sitting on the couch in my pajamas reading Jane Austen while my kids play at my feet...all day.  I am NOT an Ambitious Mom.

The Teen Mom:

The Anarchist kind of wishes she had a Teen Mom.

I got mistaken for a teen mom a lot when I first had the Dictator (I hadn't yet cultivated my "wisdom lines" around my eyes or developed my "womanly" figure).  It wasn't fun.  I got a lot of disapproving stares and "tsk tsks."  I don't envy teen moms and I can't imagine being one.  The good news for them is that they still look amazing in skinny jeans and have loads of energy to literally run after their kids without getting winded or breaking a hip.  Their kids often look like mini-teenagers themselves, the girls always have painted nails and trendy hairstyles, despite being unable even to stand up on those wobbly 8-month-old legs of theirs.

My kids might not look quite as cool, the good lord knows I don't, but I'm okay with that.  Even if the Anarchist did try to run off and join a Teen Mom's family the other day, in search of something hipper.

The Perfect Mom:

The Dictator would prefer I were a Perfect Mommy.

She sits quietly in the center of the play area nursing her completely content and silent infant (which she carries in a fully-organic sling) while her elder child (dressed in all organic play clothing) plays calmly and contentedly with a toy ice cream cone for two hours straight without complaining.  The Perfect Mom plays with her, in an educational manner, for the entire two hours, without once acting bored, tired, annoyed or frustrated.  She's either slightly slow in the head, or she's developed the self-control of a saint.  She is selfless, conscientious, responsible and loving.

She makes the rest of us hate ourselves...if I had to play with that ice cream cone for two hours, I'm pretty sure I'd end up chucking it at someone. 

The British Mom:

I can't quite put my finger on it, but they're different.  They get to name their kids things like "Nigel," "Oliver," and "Tilly" without repercussions.  They call their kids "dah-ling" in such a charming way that their children cannot resist following their directions.


If I had that accent I just KNOW my kids would listen to me.  I just KNOW it!

The Older Mom:

Old enough to be my mom, she's often mistaken as Grandma.  She imparts values to her children in ways I can't even imagine.  Her children are usually not fashionably dressed, but they're always insanely appreciated.  Probably because instead of being happy accidents like a third of the world's kids, they were planned, longed-for and waited-for.  On the downside, unlike the Teen Mom, she doesn't usually look quite so hot in skinny jeans and might actually break a hip in an attempt to run after a stray child...luckily her children are usually super-obedient and rarely run.

My kids: not obedient, often run, only half planned.  On the up-side: I'm never mistaken for the Anarchist's grandma.

The Pushy Mom:

Mini Mommy and the Dictator play puppet theatre. 
If I were a Perfect Mom, I would be up there
with them.  If I were a Pushy Mom,
they would be taking puppeteering
lessons, instead.

I usually meet this one at school or extracurricular activities.  Her kids literally do EVERYTHING--Tae Kwon Do, soccer, softball, ballet, gymnastics, voice lessons, swimming, yoga, organic gardening, theater--and she still makes time to send them to preschool.  She will stop at nothing to let you know how many things her kids do, how good it is for them, how hard it is on her, and how much she has to work at her part-time job to be able to afford those pricey designer boots her tot is carelessly flinging off in an attempt to make it into 2-Year-Old tap class on time.

The Dictator gets fatigued and disoriented after a half day of kindergarten...she's very lucky I am not a Pushy Mom...although she would get some amazing designer boots out of the deal.


Now here's the scene at My Urban Toddler:

Bitty Bruiser, ready to do some bruising.

 The Perfect Mom is sitting serenely and patiently in the secluded infant section nursing and educating her well-behaved offspring.  The British children are crawling and babbling incoherent, but totally British, nonsense, looking quizzically at all of us ignorant-sounding Americans.  The Ambitious Mom and I are exhausted, trying to prop ourselves up with coffee as the Anarchist careens recklessly around the place, chased by Teen Mom and her daughter, the Dictator quietly builds block villages to rule as she sees fit, the Bitty Bruiser knocks down British Tilly (who, predictably, cries in a British accent and is consoled by the soothing tones of a British Mom), and Mini Mommy plays house with the children of Older Mom (who is looking on attentively, but inactively).  Where are Pushy Mom and her spawn?  The answer should be obvious: competitive ice dancing, of course.

Aww...look how well they play together!
Maybe I am Perfect Mom, after all.
Wait a second...nope.  Nope.
Definitely not.