Today Little Miss Dictator had her first ‘playgroup’ with the nanny. I think that ‘playgroup’ has also moved into verb territory and perhaps she went ‘playgrouping’ with ‘playgroupies’. Being so insanely out of the loop I really have no idea. The group is made up of Americans and other foreigners in this foreign land and takes place in a lovely outside American Rec Center. An American has to be there to let the others in as it has ‘American only’ access and otherwise all those pesky Germans would be locked out. They’d be wandering the streets of Israel jonesing for some playgrouping with strangers.
It is a bit of a walk and the finish time is very close to her lunch, which moves precariously closer to her naptime everyday. I went to go pick her up so that both of the aforementioned after-group activities wouldn’t be a complete flipping disaster. I knew all the moms would be there with their respective toddlers. I knew I hadn’t taken a shower since yesterday morning and had no
intention time to take one before I went to get them.
I did brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair. I put on some fresh clothes and even a necklace (!). If it’s one thing I know, it is how women glance you over, size you up and spit you out in 30 seconds. The only thing they like better is when you hurry up and leave so they can dish about you. Especially women who are in the fray because they hang together for playgroup and you are clearly an outsider who ditches her kid off on the nanny as your paycheck requires. Do not judge my lackadaisical approach to eyebrow grooming, lest ye be judged, bitches!
I wasn’t up to glass slipper standards but I looked presentable enough for playgroup pickup. I slapped on some cherry Chapstik and went to face the music. The organizer was there and I have spoken to her on the phone, so I went up an introduced myself. She was very nice and introduced me to the group of six moms who were sitting and having picnic snacks while the children played. (Although I have clearly moved from ‘Heather’ to ‘Amelia’s Mom’, which is now in contention to replace “Chuck’s Wife”. I should ask my identity to send me a postcard, if it hasn’t yet clubbed itself to death.)
One welcoming comment, two half-hearted hi’s, and the rest didn’t acknowledge me at all. They are in with their inner circle and don’t need to be pleasant enough to be the least bit welcoming to the new girl’s mom. I was silly to be so worried about making a good impression at meeting new people in my peer group. They don’t think about it at all. It was pretty clear that the majority didn’t have the common courtesy to simply exchange the smallest bit of general niceties. I wanted to say Isn’t it nice that you can be bitchy to people not in your little mom group. Get a job! But I refrained because I’m getting more socially censoring in my old age. And I missed my gin hour this morning.
I have certainly learned my lesson. I think I’ll ask for a morning off so I can take her myself and bug them for 2 hours with my unwanted presence. I’ll bring a six pack and beer nuts for my picnic. It’ll be pissah.