Dear Supermom,

You’re going to call me crazy but I am starting to believe that a Mommy Mafia really does exist. Have you ever heard of them?

Under Suspicion


sauthorDear Cement Shoes,

YOU’RE CRAZY! Ha! See that – you told me not to and then I went ahead and… oh nevermind; it just isn’t as funny when written. And then I have to explain it and we are all just left with kind of a “huh” feeling.

Make no mistake, the Mommy Mafia exists and they are everywhere (if you read that as a whisper, its waaaaay more eerie.) Have you ever asked someone not to call you “mommy;” the kids’ teacher, the dry cleaner, your husband when he has legitimately forgotten your name? Do they oblige? No. Why? The Mommy Mafia.  I whispered “Mom” under my breath once when Tabby’s gymnastics coach called me “Mommy,” and when I returned to my car, my windshield wipers were missing.

Announce to any parent group that you have no intention of signing your kid up for soccer; watch how quickly you find yourself on a soccer field, cursing your poor judgment in providing non-organic juice for snack.

Remember when you swore you would never wear sensible shoes? Look down, right now. Eeerrriiieee.

The Mommy Mafia is fairly easy to spot. They are the three women wearing the same thing but in different colors over in the corner chatting no matter where you are. They appear to be casually discussing various aspects of every day trivialities but what is really going on?   Okay, well I don’t really know because they don’t ever talk to me but what I think is going on is they are mapping out the direction Momdom will take; they text libraries to get more kids’ crafts’ books on the shelves, they are replacing all our palazzo pants with yoga pants, they don’t just know the entire school calendar – they schedule it. Their network of spies is so extensive they can change the cafeteria menu’s veggie burger to a high protein wrap with just a flick of their hair.

Outside of the playground, the grocery store seems to be where you are most vulnerable. I was in the “Say It’s Homemade” meal aisle debating between the Vegged-Out Casserole with vegetables on the box and the Pasta Panache with a really cute cat on the cover (boy I hope there isn’t an actual cat in the Panache, that’s one of the kids’ favorites) when my cart bumped into someone. It was the redhead that ran the Coffee Stop at school in the morning. I took a step back but was stopped by the Homework Mom from Logan’s class; that was when the GodMommy came from behind the Chicken in a Minute Sauce display and began casually poking through the contents of my cart.

“Nice hairdo, Supermom,” she said.

“Oh, thanks. I was trying something a little more hip – do you like it?”

“It’s a bit much for the dairy aisle, wouldn’t you say?” She asked.

“But this isn’t…” I started.

The GodMommy interrupted, “It’s Wednesday. How do we wear our hair on Wednesday?”

I looked at the three of them – all with hair pulled off their faces – and said, “Ponytails?”

“Ponytails are on Mondays and Thursday mornings, Supermom, not Wednesday. Wednesday is a messy bun. The scrunchy is optional.”

“I just – I wanted to use a blow dryer; I was afraid I’d forgotten how.”

“Missy.” The GodMommy said and before I could turn, Homework Mom had my hair up in a twisty bun thing secured with elbow macaroni.

“I don’t remember seeing your name on the volunteers list for the Tropical Festival at school, Supermom.” The GodMommy continued.

“Oh, right… no, I was going to sign up but then I, you know, remembered that school committees give me hives.”

“And what if everyone who broke out in hives was allowed to avoid the festival? Where would we be then, Supermom?”

“Uhm, having coffee?” I ventured.

She ticked her head to the left and Coffee Stop grabbed the blue eyeliner from my cart, “We’re boycotting eyeliners, Supermom. Maybe if you signed up for a few more committees, you would know… the rules.” The GodMommy purred when she said “the rules.”

“I saw it in a magazine. They say colors are… “

“Magazine? We do websites, Supermom – blogs. That’s where we work. Do you read blogs?”

I exclaimed, a bit too excitedly, “I do! I do read a blog – blogs. I write for one.”

This stopped them in their tracks. The GodMommy turned slowly on her heel, “Write? Mommy stuff?”

“Yes, an advice column. All Mom, er, Mommy stuff.”

And that is how I came to launder Target gift cards into online “Mommy’s Helper” apps. Just click the upper right of my home page – if you know what’s good for you.




 Thank you to Kaye A from Ross, CA. If you would like to send Supermom a note, email her at