Stupidity or Science Fiction?

When my son turned two, we joined a “Mommy & Me” class. I then came across what I had thought was mere fiction. Science fiction, if you will.  But in fact, it turned out to be stupidity.

I immediately noticed something peculiar in this Mommy & Me group.

First, some background: Pre-kids – I had perfectly manicured nails. I’d go to Palm Springs for facials and massages; my hair was cut by one of the biggest names in Beverly Hills, and my fashionable wardrobe turned many a head. Post-kids – no more manicures; I’ve only been to Palm Springs once, and that was for my younger son’s golf tournament; Cristophe hasn’t done my hair in 16 years, and my clothes are mostly of the practical variety.

Back to the action:

At first glance, the Mommy & Me class members appeared ordinary – 12 mothers and kids. Gradually, however, I noticed a few suspicious details: these moms looked carefully coiffured; not a chipped nail in sight; their wrinkle-free, dry-clean-only attire looked crisp and fresh (i.e., no small fingerprints or evidence of assorted food stains); they wore high heels to class (how do you chase your toddler around while wearing stilettos?); and the final clincher – these moms successfully wore white. What mother of a tiny tot can wear white for longer than 5 freaking minutes without attracting a multitude of demoralizing smudges and spots? We’re like life-size napkins, for heaven’s sake! With all the tantalizing bright paint pots, wet sand, and ready-to-spill snacks and juice available in Mommy & Me, how was it possible to emerge unstained?

Something was fishy.

With the exception of 2 other moms, every one of these perfectly groomed, mannequin-style mothers looked and talked alike. I never heard one of them raise her voice.  Each drove an Escalade in either white or gold, each wore a flashlight sized diamond ring, and they talked only of fashion, botox/plastic surgery, and vacations (and I don’t mean camping trips or Disneyland; I mean Couer d’Alene, Aspen, Maui or the Caribbean). 

I kept one eye on my son, and the other on these perpetually lipstick-enhanced, smiling moms. One in particular, Cinthia, caught my attention. Her squirmy, sulky offspring, Matthew, whimpered during the entire 2 hour class. And when not whimpering, he was attempting escape over the chain-linked fence. Unlike his mom, Matthew never smiled.

Then one day, a different Matthew came to class. A wide grin wrapped around his head as he played contentedly. Climbing the fence was a non-issue. Elsa, his nanny, brought him that day. Cinthia had a session with her fitness trainer and was absent. Then the realization smacked me: I had entered a world where Mommy-comes-first-and-always-looks-perfect-while-kids-come-in-a-distant-second. The world of the Stepford Wives. Silly me thought they were the stuff and nonsense of novels.

If I was an English professor discussing the symbolism behind the book, The Stepford Wives, I’d say the mindless, copycat moms who lacked independent thought and creativity, and who displayed a passing interest in their kids personified stupidity. If you cannot think for yourself and realize that your children should be a priority in your life, you are a stuper (short, yet again, for those outlandishly stupid persons). 

From my observations, I noticed that silence did not occur long enough among these counterfeit moms for any thought to occur. And they were far too busy looking at each other to bother looking inside themselves. They viewed their lives through the eyes of others, not their own. Their only goal was acceptance by peers; hence they sought conformity. I believe that somewhere along the way, these people just got tired of thinking.

To avoid becoming a stuper, I suggest you focus on your priorities – for yourself and your loved ones. To figure out your priorities, think! What makes you happy? I mean, really happy? Not like the fleeting fun that idiots indulge in. Focus also on your strengths and sweet skills. In other words, focus on your good so your good will grow. All else will fall by the wayside. Eventually, anyway.

What did I do once I discovered the Stepford Wives? I escaped. I, and the two thinking moms, moved on to a cooperative pre-school where the parents were actively involved in their children’s early learning. Involvement meant no Stepford Wife would bother to apply.

Thinking is a choice!





One Response to “Stupidity or Science Fiction?”

  1. Julianne says:

    Living in East Tennessee has sheltered me from this type of thing. I would certainly be a lost soul in a room full of finely quaffed, buxom beauties. And, no, you cannot wear white. I think it’s illegal until your kids hit Junior High.

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