Wednesday, January 13, 2010

A good class mom…

Being a mother is taken very earnestly in America. You are asked almost directly which team you endeavor for: Working Mom or Stay-at-Home Mom. The Working moms all looked overdressed in suits and busy as they picked up their kids, patch answering their Motorola and driving a tank. The Stay-at-Homes wore trendy sports clothes and ever had a Brobdingnagian Starbucks in their hand, or in the drink holder of the trendy stroller they were actuation with their new baby or toddler. They liked to travel with strollers around attorney Park, often with a dog attached, streaming along too.


So, for me, it was a hornlike question, since I work and stay-at-home. I don’t dress chic, but I am not sporty either and I hate jogging. We don’t even hit a car as a status symbol or a posh address, which confused them. When I said that I was English with a French husband experience in America, they could not reason me and gave up.


I felt miles more comfortable with the French mamans, who looked well-dressed even at octad in the morning, didn’t exaggerate the sports thing, went to cafes for their coffee, and had such better conversation anyway. But I felt I should try with the Americans, so I offered to do a collection activate to the Botanical Gardens with Nina's 2nd Grade class.


The activate was over-booked, octad mothers for about 25 kids, and we had to sit in threes on the alter yellow edifice bus. The moms were excited, proud to hit been designated and disagreeable hornlike to be better than anyone else. Instead of going ammo as a group we were separate into groups of three, and we hurried off, disagreeable to provide our kids the best edifice activate ever. Nina was clingy, but I understood why, the American girls all had a Best Friend. The digit French-American girls in her collection had no interest in Nina, belike because they already had a Best Friend in another class, or perhaps didn’t poverty to seen speaking French with Nina in class, which was frowned on. I saw that Nina was terribly lonely and uncomprehensible her KL friends. And I felt the aforementioned way.


The only mothers in the whole edifice who talked to me for more than five minutes were divorcees. They were unbelievably candid and open about their situation, telling me more than I wanted to know. I surmisal we both felt somewhat excluded from the perfect attorney life the moms were disagreeable to have.
 
 
 
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