True story, although this happened a week after I started work on the above cartoon. I met with Patty and other Patty and their kids at one of the local playgrounds. While the yard apes ran amok, we sat in the only shady area in the place. Another mom showed up with her daughter and they joined us, seeking a little relief from the heat. The daughter seemed very nice, but the mom? A little too mundane, if you know what I mean. A little too normal, a little too scrap-bookish, a little too Bunco-playing. She was the kind of mom that wears Birkenstocks and volunteers for the PTA so she can tell other moms what to do. She wasn't rude, but she sure as hell didn't fit into our little freak clique.
See, Patty is a member of the SCA (she was a Baroness once) and was making adjustments to a medieval period coat while we were there. Other Patty was discussing the finer points of yoga and getting her massage therapist certification, and such talk will occasionally veer into chi, pressure points, and other metaphysical stuff. Me? I was nattering about the best way to promo my erotica e-book, and was dressed up in my fav pirate t-shirt and plaid school-girl skirt. Individually, we're odd. Together, we're a freak clique.
Anyway, Normal Mom was just a little too normal for my tastes. I kept waiting for her to invite me to her church's women's bible group. I'm Zen Buddhist, which is pretty much like being an atheist that meditates. Normal Mom was also just a little too familiar and condescending with my kids. After I mentioned that Sam had painted her crib with poop, she tracked Sam down on the playground and told her, "Big girls poopie in the potty, sweetie!" Uh, yeah, we already had that discussion, thanks. Then when she introduced her daughter to Cassie, she said, "This is Clarice. You should remember that name, because Clarice and Cassie start with the same sound."
To which I said, "Cass, what letter does Clarice start with?"
"'C' just like 'Cassie'."
At which point I shot Normal Mom a look that said, "My girl can read and write, so back off, bitch."
We haven't seen Normal Mom since that afternoon. Patty invited her to join us again, but due to rain we ended up going to a different venue for our next gathering, and nobody had Normal Mom's number. Darn. But someone, she has haunted me since that play date. Last night, I had a dream that I was forced to join a formal mommies group, the kind where they have regular business meetings and you have to pay dues. They forced me to wear a mommy uniform and then issued me a baby (seriously, I had to sign for it and everything). The baby was adorable, a fat squirmy thing with dark curly hair that reminded me of Cassie and Sam. But the uniform was butt ugly. It had this ascot that made me look one hundred years old when I wore it around my neck. I hated it, but I knew if I didn't wear the uniform, the mommies group would take back the baby, and I couldn't stand the idea of that.
I will always be a freak. I've been one for as long as I can remember, and have been persecuted for it by various means. I'm used to that, maybe too used to that, so that I end up seeing enemies where there aren't any really. Maybe I should have gotten to know Normal Mommy better. Maybe we could have been friends. Or maybe I would have found out that she's the kind of person who comes after people like me with pitchforks and torches. We'll probably never know.
I hope.
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