The “Park-Moms” Scare Me
Yesterday after school I took Maya to the park…she’d been asking all week and since the weather was finally decent I concluded a few more germs weren’t going to kill her and off we went. So we get to the park and I take a good look at my outfit: Lucy Hatha Yoga Pants (can’t say enough about how much I love these – I now have 2 pairs!), a bleach stained hoodie (don’t ask), my glasses (just couldn’t do the contacts), and a Target hat that goes hand in hand with my glasses. I have no idea why but the hat makes me feel less like a librarian and more like a incognito movie star. At least in my mind anyway. Everyone else is probably just thinking…what a nerd. And what a cheap hat.
Then I take inventory of Maya who is sporting paint-stained Target’s best from head to toe. Her hair is also in a million directions and her face has something on it that looks suspiciously like chocolate. To top it all off she is wearing blue socks with her pink ensemble. Nice, huh?
Then I look at the rest of the kids surrounding us…the 4-year-old kid trying to push Maya off the spinner is sporting True Religion jeans. Her sister, a cute toddler named Shanghai (how cool is that name?) is sporting a Burberry plaid skirt and Uggs. Another random little boy, who looks no more than 8-years-old is texting on his iPhone as he waits for a turn on the swings. I am NOT making this up. Oh, and my personal favorite? A “tween” flashing her megasized Coach bag.
And the “Park Moms” are something else. There is this group of ladies who I’ve seen regularly for more than a couple of years but to whom I am invisible. Normally that would bother me but in this situation I am okay with it because honestly, they kind of freak me out a bit. They are in a competition to see who can be the skinniest (sorry, I swear I am working on this judging thing but these girls are eerily thin) and who can wear the most labels at once. I’m not going to lie, they look fabulous, but they also come to the park decked out with huge Prada bags and high-heeled Chanel boots. I love Chanel as much as the next person, but I certainly don’t wear it to the park.
When our time at the park finally concluded, thanks only to the sun setting, I dragged Maya out to the parking lot. And as we darted in between the mass exodus of SUV’s, whining children, and fake air kisses, I looked at my ragamuffin daughter, saw my frizzy hair in my peripheral vision, and thanked my lucky stars that I am not, and will never be, a “Park Mom.”
What kind of people scare you?