Friday must have been Cosmic Momzilla Bare-Your-Claws day. But then again, you be the judge. I’ll merely report:
Momzilla Sighting #1:
Upon returning from a foofy baby boutique in town with a few purchases (the CUTEST pair of Robeez with lions on them, baby sunglasses, and a onesie that cheekily declares “I am not a girl”), someone whose acquaintance I’ve only met in passing felt compelled to use the “Oh-you-frivolous-spendthrift” tone of voice with me.
It was just a hint, but it was Subtle Momzilla at work: I showed off The Meow with his pair of UV-filtered sunglasses in which he was smartly posing. I know he’s my son and all, but he looked incredibly cute: people were actually stopping us on the street to tell us just how adorable he was, and how cute/comical it was (a lady, shouting behind us to catch up, gave us quite a fright). A couple of ladies doing a leisurely outdoor lunch proclaimed him “The Littlest Blues Brother.” So you see, I am not making up that he looked CUTE.
So naturally, I thought it would elicit a similar response from pseudo-neighbor lady who I barely know.
I walked a few steps toward her and another lady I do know and she immediately eyed the offending pale blue paper bag that hung conspicuously from my right forearm.
“Oh…… [insert name of cute baby boutique that is overpriced but totally cute], huh?”
And then, the pièce de resistance: the sarcastic chuckle.
Her friend did not know the store by name, so Subtle Momzilla proceeded to expound on how the items in the store ARE lovely but, well, you know… incredibly pricey. Her eye-rolling and body language indicated that she, being a consummate Momzilla, does not engage in pricey shopping but instead knows how to bargain-shop and would NEVER. BE. CAUGHT. DEAD. willingly shopping at this pricey and wasteful place.
So then chimed her friend, suddenly having a recollection of ever knowing the store, “Oh well you know…. my daughter-in-law received a very LARGE gift certificate from THAT store for MY GRANDSON …. *sarcastic chuckle* She nearly went insane and wanted EVERYTHING.”
Clucking, eye-rolling and tsking noises ensued, as if to wonder what could be wrong with these women who want EVERYTHING for their kids from a beautiful boutique for babies.
The nerve of those horrible spendthrifts. Tsk.
Momzilla Sighting #2
Capitol Hill has its share of women with gaggles of kids, and many of them have the élan of treating motherhood with the same tenacity and attitude as they did their high-powered Washington jobs before the baby ever got in the way– or got checked off the list, if you will. I’m not saying this is the case everywhere, but it appeared to be so with this Momzilla.
As we were waiting for our pub fare at a little tavern near Eastern Market we saw Her Momness push through the crowd with her über chic stroller, her face displaying all the warmth of a rottweiler who flunked out of obedience school; hair in a no-nonsense “I’m-a-mom” bob and clothing provided by some developing country she possibly cares about. In the stroller, a child of about three –screeching merrily, possibly rehearsing for his fire alarm tryouts– who could have possibly been walking. Leading the pack, a precocious girl of about six. Strangely enough, she seemed to have enough savoir-faire to make up for steamroller Momzilla and Fire Alarm. I believe she was the one who managed to get her family seated because, you see….. mom was on the phone that whole time.
Barking directions at the serving staff, pushing patrons out of the way with the stroller while her child screamed for no reason AND all the while, on the phone.
Of course she was pushing patrons out of the way because SHE’S A MOM, YOU GUYS! And CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S TRYING TO GET HER FAMILY SEATED?? But as she sat, she still had the nerve to look around and eye with suspicion the three tables to the west of hers: ours, with the sleeping 5 month old; the table to our left, with the 18-month old prefect-wannabe who didn’t even drop one single Cheerio on the floor; and the table to our right, with the 3-year old who was eating a quesadilla, broccoli and smiling sweetly at his parents. Then she turned back to her VERY IMPORTANT phone-calling while Fire Alarm peppered his tongue and the ketchup bottle.
So there you have ’em folks: two very different moms but one thing in common: the self-entitlement and braggadocio that can only come from being a Momzilla.
A round of applause for our ladies, please!