- So, what do you DO?
- Do you work? I mean, outside the home?
- Wow, you’re a full-time mom?
- Do you have a job?
- Your kids are all in school now though, right?
Its hard not to feel the judgment oozing from the asker. These are the same people who asked you such beauties as:
- Did you plan your pregnancy?
- Are you going to breastfeed for the full two years?
- How much weight did you gain when you got pregnant?
- Wasn't your due date last month?
- Does your child go really go to that daycare?
- You let your kids watch TV?
A woman I only sort of know wins the prize for this kind of question. [Editorial comment: I know her. That woman is a damn heifer. - Lydia]. I guess she didn't like my outfit. I was dressed for my (part-time) job and dropping off the kids at school when she saw me and said, “Oh My God. What do you do for a living?”
Granted, most moms don’t show up in black leather jeans and channeling Johnny Cash. But seriously?! Pardon my delicate sensibilities, but on the day you show up wearing Land’s End matching sweats with your toothbrush STILL IN YOUR MOUTH is the day you forfeit playing critic with Clinton and Stacy. [Editorial comment: I like Land's End sweats. - Lydia.] Can we at least agree on a minimum threshold of attire before casting stones at another's wardrobe? I know I can go WAY over the top, but please, on behalf of every other mother who HAS to see you at drop off, put. on. a. bra.
My response to her charming question: “I’m a hooker." We’ve never spoken again. It’s been nice. And those jeans still fit. Bonus. [Editorial comment: Kate is not a hooker, but she is ridiculously gorgeous.- Lydia].
The above heifer/hooker exchange was irritating on many levels:
- Level 1: Unprovoked rudeness.
- Level 2: I am no more defined by the fact that I can rock some leather jeans than I am by the fact that I am currently professionally under-employed.
- Level 3: If I were just a single gal, that heifer might have thought that question but she certainly wouldn't have said it out loud. Why?
- Level 4: If I promise not to hate on you because you're a cow, can you please show me the same courtesy? [Editorial comment: On behalf of all the heifers out there, yes. - Lydia]
At some point we've all gotten the urge to ask another mommy something, knowing the answer will result in you feeling just a little bit better about yourself. Is it really worth it? Aren't the indignities we suffer as butt-wipers and dish-washers enough? Do we really need to make it harder on each other? [Editorial comment: I once had a female DOCTOR I worked with make fun of me because I was still breastfeeding my nine-month-old. To the point where I almost cried. In a meeting. Stupid doctor. That wasn't cream in your coffee, hotshot. - Lydia] So when you get the itch and you want to ask if they "still work" or if that juice box is organic, just like yours, think about me and Lydia. Keep all the acerbic, witty things you want to say in your head. Then send the snark to us.