Jami is "That" Mom

Sigh. I've long been blessed with a pretty healthy dose of not caring what most people think about me. Don't like my hair, clothes, car? So what? Think I talk too much? You're probably right. Sorry. In general, my feeling is either you like me for who I am, or you don't. And mostly, that's worked for me. However, it's different now that my kids are getting out into the world. Or more specifically, kid. Eddie is in preschool now and it's a very different world from the preschool he was in last year. Not bad, just different. And I think I'm this class's "that mom". You know, like 'That mom showed up with toothpaste on her forehead, again." "That mom forgot that today is bring in a working model of a nuclear power plant you made out of macaroni day." Many of these moms show up in nice clothes and full make-up. I'm happy to be there on time with pants on. I haven't volunteered for any of the activities yet, I'm still trying to figure out how all this works and also getting used to having two kids. At Halloween, I was surprised when Eddie came home with a little treat bag from each other student. Argh!! I checked all the take-home materials, not a word in there about bringing gift bags. So then for Christmas, the paper home says we are doing a book exchange. Bring a book, gift wrapped, gender neutral, no more than $5. Sounds good. We won't be doing gift bags, because we are doing books. Right? Wrong again! Once again my thankfully-oblivious son returns home with a sack of individually wrapped treats after having none to hand out. Some moms really brought the bucks, others did nice homemade stuff. Even if I'd thought of it, with my budget and talent, Eddie would have been handing out those ghosts you make from lollipops and tissue. "Tell them it's from A Christmas Carol, baby. We're literary folk." Only that morning on the way in did I remember that moms usually give teachers a little gift. Argh again! Fortunately the patient and sainted Husband went off in search of gifts for the teachers before pick-up time. If it were just me, I wouldn't care if the other mothers noticed that I wear pajama pants about once a week for drop-off or if they whisper that I bring the cheapest snack when it's my turn. I do plan to volunteer for something, honest. But I don't want it to reflect on Eddie. I don't want him to have the mom that the other ones giggle about. Sure, he'll get picked on for something at some point in his life, everyone who hasn't been made fun of, please drop me a line, but it shouldn't be because his mom's a nutball. At our old preschool, I knew the other moms' names. We chatted at pick up time, even had a few playdates. Now I feel like the odd Mom out - maybe because we started this year late (due to birth and all) or maybe they were all friends last year when their kids were in this preschool for the 3's. I don't know and normally I wouldn't care. I have my friends. I like my friends. I barely have time for my friends. So why do I want so much to make them like me? Because Eddie's great and they all should talk about that, not about me. Mommying is hard. And I'll be ready at Valentines!