Not My Mother After All



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 www.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.)



Clutching our coffee in one hand and dog leashes in the other, Amy and I stood at the bus stop and affirmed each other in our perpetual journey of not becoming our mothers.

My mom was not into housekeeping. House rule #72 stated, “All flat surfaces, especially counter tops, must be covered in layers of materials not necessarily belonging there.”

While not a Clean Freak, I do insist the newspapers in my little domestic universe actually end up in something resembling a stack rather than drop cloths. Ring Around The Toilet is to be avoided at all costs.

My mother didn’t hesitate to wave out the car window in the school pick up line, “Yooohooo, Karen, over here!” I wouldn’t dream of mortifying my child like that. Unless all other threats failed. Then I’d show up for lunch.

My mom prepared a meal with at least three different colors every night. In my kitchen, ketchup is a major food group.

My mother used to punish us with a shout of, “Go to your room and wait until your father gets home!” I pull the plug on the computer and television before I resort to sending them to their cushy bedrooms. Then it’s mostly to keep me from beating them. After we all calm down and have a nice talkie poo, I throw in, “And you owe me for not mentioning this to your father!”

Mom would say, “You’re the one who wanted that dog — go scoop the poop in the yard then give her a bath.” When my husband travels, my daughter and I fight over who gets the dog in our bed.

My mother was quite the accomplished seamstress — she actually sewed my first college interview suit. I iron patches on blue jeans where the knees used to be, hem anything I want to wear and reupholster dining room chairs with a power staple gun and duct tape.

With four small children at home, my mother went to school to get her Master’s degree and Ph.D. I completed a semester and a half of my Master’s before I moved out of state and had Baby #1. I never finished. I’m so busy with my kids’ homework, I don’t need any of my own.

She does not drink coffee in the morning. This, I simply do not understand. I am unable to recall my children’s names before my second cup.

After What’s Their Names got on the bus, Amy and I clinked our coffee mugs, toasted the brave and unique Bus Stop Mommies that we are.

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