The first three years of my children’s preschool world put me in direct contact with MissingThePoint Mom.  This is the first year since my child was three-years old that I have had the luxury of being free from MissingThePoint Mom.  However, in an ironic twist, once again life placed me in her path.

Actually, MissingThePoint Mom is nice, and most likely she has a good heart.  If she weren’t so off, she could be tolerable.  However, her priorities and decisions epitomize the reason for Value wIT’s existence. MissingThePoint Mom is the core of why I want to move away from America.

To provide a flavor of MissingThePoint Mom, recall the time I went to her gigantic house to retrieve my child from a playdate. Ding-donging the doorbell of her castle, I peered through the glass doors to notice the soulless furnishings and the almost complete absence of décor – even the landscape lacked personality. A $4 million shell that is empty on the inside (foreshadowing.)

MissingThePoint Mom answers the door in some type of dancewear involving a Lycra “car-wash” style skirt and tights. Her hair is damp hair slicked back with gel.  My mind races to place the look. Is she going to a party, taking an ice-skating class or participating in a Dancing with Stars episode? No control over myself, I twist my head, squint my eyes and blurt, “What’s that you are wearing? And why?”

MissingThePoint Mom clears the confusion by saying, “Oh, my husband harasses me about exercising. Before he gets home I put on exercise clothes and wet my hair so it looks like I worked out.”

Bu, of course.

Distracted by the yapping, crated Bichon Friese positioned by the Jolly Green Giant’s fireplace, a second muttering pops out of my mouth, “What? Plastic toes? Why?”  You see, the small dog in the large house was enclosed in a cage and his toes were encased in plastic. Apparently the toenail covers prevent the dog from scratching the wood floors or the kids.  The kids? Where were the kids?

MissingThePoint Mom leads me out of the house past the pool with its various waterfalls and down the hill around the tennis court to the Children’s House,which also serves as the nanny’s house.  The nanny, who in later years will have a title change and be referred to as Teacher, is leading the children in a Popsicle gluing exercise.  My child swaggers over to me and says, “Let’s go.”

Preschool and Kindergarten come and go and MissingThePoint Mom becomes known amongst the school crowd for employing the largest staff of childcare consultants ever known to mankind: daytime nannies, weeknight nannies, weekend nannies, reading teachers, tennis teachers, swimming teachers, speech therapists, manners consultants. In addition to all the women who work at this household in an attempt to raise the children, the children are always at extra curricular classes: cooking class, art class, ABC camp, music school, gymnastics, hip-hop, horseback riding… it’s tiring just to list all those lessons – imagine attending that many classes.

Again, MissingThePoint Mom is nice. That’s not the problem. The problem is that she and her doctor husband have blatantly chosen to ignore every bit of common sense that one should use when raising children.  For instance, the child stamped her foot and refused to eat vegetables or any food with nutritional value.  As a result, the little girl became constipated. Instead of making the child eat some decent food the parent’s answer was to buy a wholesale sized tub of Senokot and make it a part of her daily diet.  Of course, everyday laxatives will cause a person to shit like a pet coon…at inopportune times. 

MissingThePoint Mom is pretty. Not a traffic stopper, but better than average. For some reason, the husband, I suspect, MissingThePoint Mom has spent more than her fair share of time under the knife…gut, butt, eyes, lips. After one major face reorganization, I was so embarrassed to look at her. Meeting her eyes was unsettling because she looked like another person. Seeing MissingThePoint Mom at a school performance, I was rendered speechless and couldn’t maintain a conversation with her as she tried to get her puffy lips to form words.

My children’s new school has been such a relief because the parents are unremarkable. These everyday parents limit my writing prompts, but they keep my sanity in check. However, my newfound calm was shaken when I bumped into MissingThePoint Mom last week.

In order for my son to learn to hold a pencil, it appears the only solution is for him to participate in occupational therapy. In case you don’t know, OT is where you pay for your children to jump on trampolines and squeeze Play-doh. Certainly, if I were a more committed mother or at least a mother with more than 5 extra minutes in my day, I would be able to teach my child to write. However, I know my limitations and have enrolled my son in this handwriting class. Guess who is at the class? MissingThePoint Mom.  Of course, her daughter is getting writing help, which I suspect is not to bring her up to par, but to help her get ahead.

Oddly, MissingThePoint Mom evokes a humble tone. This warmth accompanied by the fact that she is wearing an apron gives her a mom-who-was-baking-cookies-but-had-run-an-errand look. Reread that sentence. I said MissingThePoint Mom was wearing an apron … over her St. John separates. An apron. 

My mouth says, “Why ya wearing an apron?” Her answer, “Oh, I’m really into aprons these days” does not satisfy me.  However, I am unable to ask a follow-up question about the apron because I am distracted by her Invisalign and her eyelash extensions.

It was all too much handle, and seeing MissingThePoint Mom made me tired. I was reminded that while I’ve been lazing around enjoying my children’s new school and its socially unconnected student body, the other school’s moms are still running the race.  Across town children are getting a leg up with movie-making classes while their mothers are getting fresh fetal lamb cell injections to smooth fine lines.

My competitive tendency flairs, and for a teeny-tiny minute I consider enrolling my children in an Architecture for Children class and making myself a Botox appointment. Instead, spent the next thirty minutes watching..."Mommy, watch me. Mommy, look at me. Mom, come see this carnival we made."

Comments

[Austin homeboy]

ROTFLMSkinnyAO! Oh Lord, this is so good.

This one has to be a national blog entry annual award winner, Bitsy.

My SO suggested that you must have written this about an amalgam of women you know-- but I fear it IS just one person.

Thanks for making my day! Seriously.

[Shellie]

I'm incredulous. How can people stand to be like that?

[Shelly]

An apron? When did this become a fashion accessory? I have one my mother-in-law made me. I'm wearing it to book club tomorrow.