The nerve of that woman. For the past three years I slept soundly at night believing she was long gone but no. Imposter Mom is back. Except this time with a lot more gusto, a few more wrinkles and a little less energy.
And this time, she let loose with a whopper of embarrassment she cried. A lot. Okay, maybe not sobs or nose blowing bouts, but the tears were there. Let’s call it weepy.
Three years after Imposter Mom made her debut at my son’s high school orientation, she returned for my daughter’s introductory evening to her next four years of life. Actually, she showed up at my house the night before. She sat at my desk and whimpered on email to friends about her baby daughter’s upcoming freshman year. Imposter Mom dialogued in disbelief about her son being a Senior the college applications on the kitchen counter (stuck to grape jelly and who knows what else) and how both her kids now own calculators each costing more than her first car.
I would never do that. First of all, I don’t let grape jelly linger on my counters. No really, I don’t. It must have been my children. Second, I am not old enough or grown up enough to have two children in high school. And third, my first car cost more than $80.
Imposter Mom was weepy all day leading up to the actual orientation night at school. Really, I am so busy, I wouldn’t have had time for such nonsense! I had to return overdue library books, take my daughter to get her haircut, meet deadlines for my editor, walk the dogs the usual glamorous stuff of which my days are filled.
Then, an hour before I had to leave for school, Imposter Mom shampooed and styled her hair AND put on makeup! Who’s she trying to impress? I am not that vain. I would have run out the door in yesterday’s mascara and my hair in a ponytail with a pencil sticking out of it.
So as my Imposter is standing there layering on the makeup, my husband comes home, walks in the bathroom to find her blubbering again. What a waste of freshly applied Boi-ing my Industrial Strength under eye concealer. Does she know how much I paid for that? How was my husband not fooled, again, by my imposter? And he’s never home that early from work.
So off he goes to school with my daughter and IM. Imposter Mom didn’t make it past the main hallway before chumming it up with all my neighborhood Bus Stop Mommies and Daddies. As soon as she saw Chris with her youngest daughter, IM started crying again! What was her problem? She’s been through this before! She should be happy both her kids are in high school now.
Wait, my kids. They’re my kids. Though I am not grown up enough for that.
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)