Thursday, February 26, 2009

"Mean Girls" Redux

It’s the new moon. It must be. Because it seems that we've got our own personal episode of “Moms Gone Wild!” airing around here. “Mean Girls – The Big Girls’ Edition”. "Mean Girls Redux". I know I’m not the only one – another mom recently noted getting “cyber-bitch slapped”. What is with some of these women, these fellow moms, nowadays? Aren't we all in the same boat?

Before you read this and think “well, maybe she’s the problem”, please know that I have worried about that. I’m not one of the inner circle so that’s not really likely, but to ensure that I am not becoming a “Mean Girl” myself, I often ask friends from different circles to give me their honest opinions of my behavior in certain situations. They confirm that I am behaving like a rational, concerned human being. Before you think “mean girls beget mean girls”, you should know that these friends providing the reviews are the moms that greet EVERYONE at functions and engage them all in conversation. These are the moms that remember your name and will talk to you on the sidelines. These are the normal moms. Some have money and drive nice cars, and some have beat-up old vans and husbands that work two jobs to make ends meet. They are real and caring and honest and like an occasional cocktail and have problems in life too.

Then there are the “Mean Moms”. They seem to be acting up lately. I seem to know more of them than I care to. Everything seems to be a battle with them lately, every tiny decision, every activity and function. These are the women who, when volunteering, take charge, won’t listen to anyone else’s ideas, and try to strong-arm everyone to march to their drummer. The ones with all the ideas who promise the moon and deliver on little if any of it, who then blame everyone else. The ones behaving like spoiled brats who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and who throw tantrums because you dare to correct them. On occasion, they will even resort to tears in group situations, not so much to show their hurt but to steer the sympathies of the group their way. The ones who, once you think you’ve resolved an issue, continue to hammer you over the head with it until they get their own way. The ones I will not give in to, which makes me Most Wanted on their hit lists.

My recent experiences have shown me that they should be kept in cages, not allowed access to school personnel (as they may make promises of funding before an actual VOTE has been taken), fed Big Macs and pizza and really bad Chardonnay, and not allowed any access to the Internet, as their email missives are more anxiety-producing than their actual words often are. If that can’t be done, written policy and procedures for these groups seem to keep them at bay somewhat (like vampires and garlic), because they’re at least smart enough to know that there are few excuses for violating things set forth in writing. Avoiding smaller group meetings, where part of the agenda will most likely be calling me to the carpet for disagreeing or questioning them in front of the group, has become a must – it seems necessary to have all discussions take place in front of larger and larger groups, because said groups would boot them out of their leadership positions in a bloodless coup if everyone knew all.

The answer would be to give up and give in. But I can’t. I chose to stay involved with a number of organizations and can’t limit my direct exposure to these women. I accept that. I let some things slide. I pick my battles. I’m learning to thicken my skin to their barbs. I’m learning to not have opening my email and seeing a message from one of them cause an anxiety attack (didn’t have luck with that one this morning).

I just wish someone would invent “Biotch-B-Gone”. I’ll order the first case.

2 comments:

SuperMomdel said...

You are so right! I think you and I should collaborate on a book (even though I don't know you at all, we are surely kindred spirits) entitled Biotch-B-Gone! I think it would consist of a spray that smells like the interior of a cloth-seat covered Grand Caravan coated with the stench of non-designer clothing...

Amy W said...

Once you figure out how to get rid of them, let me know...