My son attended high school orientation last night. His father took him and some strange woman accompanied them. It wasn't me. I'm not grown up enough to have a child in high school.
Ironically, that woman looked like me, sounded like me and wore the same pair of khaki capris I had on earlier that same day. I recognized her wrinkled blouse with the coffee stain on the sleeve and the ponytail held up with old Hanes Her Way elastic. I've even seen her sleeping on my side of the bed but reality just doesn't lend itself for me to be grown up enough to have a child starting high school. So it couldn't have been me.
I don't understand how others could be so fooled by my Impostor. My friend Lynn offered to drive everyone to school. She didn't blink twice at the woman who casually slid into her back seat with my son.
Once at school, this woman accompanied my family all over the place and introduced herself as my son's mother. She walked six steps ahead of my husband, engrossed in the little rectangular piece of paper that listed the next 10 months of daily life for my son.
The Impostor Mom boldly stepped into each of my son's classrooms and introduced herself to his teachers. She was certain his English teacher wasn't old enough to be out of high school let alone teach in one. She kept embarrassing my son by running her fingers through his new hair cut and saying things like, “This is my little boy. He's a very good student.” I'd never do anything to embarrass my son in public.
When Impostor Mom met the Latin teacher, she announced that her brother spoke Latin. Who cares? I'd never say anything that lame.
The woman continued to drag my husband and son around school until they saw every nook and cranny in the building. She struck up conversations with total strangers and asked a student council member for directions. Impostor Mom wouldn't let them leave until she joined the athletic booster club and PTO, verified the bus schedule, met the guidance counselor and grilled the lunch lady on her turkey potpie recipe.
She stopped in the hallways to talk to my friends and neighbors. She even got all chummy with my fellow Bus Stop Mommies. Now that's going a little too far! Who was this woman and why was she taking over my life? All I know is she must be a real grown-up.
Only mature, sensible women who drive sedans, wear Dry-Clean-Only clothes and lack any memory of what it's like to be a teenager have children in high school. I'll be paying off my minivan until I'm fifty; if it's not machine washable, I don't buy it and I vividly remember slipping notes into locker #1028.
How can my son start high school? I'm not grown up enough for that.
Karen Rinehart is a magazine humor columnist, public speaker and the creator of The Bus Stop Mommies, a newspaper. She is also author of Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life. You can read more of her work at karenrinehart.net. Karen lives in Concord, North Carolina with her two kids, one husband and goofball dog, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dog at home.) She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan and England.
