That Mom

When one of my kids was in elementary school, parents were asked to bring in a themed snack for the unit on Japan. Thinking I was too cool for school, I went to the local Asian market and bought enough cookie packs for all the kids in the class. The clerk assured me the cartoon character on the packaging was all the rage with school-aged kids in Japan. 

When I got to school, I walked in behind a mom carrying a tray of very real looking “sushi” made out of rice krispie treats, fruit roll-ups and licorice strings. Cutting, rolling and decorating her treats must have taken hours. 

“That Mom” got me again. 

In the 20 years that I have been a parent, “That Mom” has influenced me and my family in a variety of different ways. Sometimes it’s good to be “That Mom.” Other times, being “That Mom” is not something to be proud of.

My friend Cindy used to make up a park schedule for the summer when our kids were pre-schoolers. She would randomly identify parks all over the region and pick dates for the rest of us to just show up with our toddlers, and later, older kids. Holmes Foster. Greenwood Furnace. DelGrosso’s. 

She distributed copies of the schedule to the Mom network. Those schedules were then posted on refrigerators all over State College. My kids would eagerly look forward to those days with bikes at the Military museum in Boalsburg or water shoes at Spring Creek. Some of those mom are still my closest friends. How humbling was it that I have degrees in recreation, but my friend with an MBA and a background in accounting provided recreation and structure for our toddler network? 

It was good to be friends with “That Mom.”

At Parent’s Weekend for my daughter’s sorority this past semester, there were rumors about a single parent of one of the girls sucking face with one of her daughter’s college-aged male friends on the dance floor. Apparently “That mom” was working through some divorce issues. Thankfully, I don’t ever picture myself as “That Mom.”

Our youngest still shudders when telling the story of how he got his fingers caught in an escalator when we were visiting cousins in Cincinnati. I became “that Mom” when the ambulance drive told us that only one parent can ride in the ambulance. Come to think of it, I’ve been “That Mom” a few times when I understood what my kid needed to make it through a painful or uncomfortable medical procedure and put my foot down until it happened. 

The concept of “That Mom” is actually pretty sexist if you think about it. Sure we have “that Dad” when it comes to things like fighting in the stands at youth sporting events but “That mom” takes a lot more heat. The Dad-Coach who pushes his kid, swears, and must win at all costs is, after all, just being a Dad. He’s just being a guy. If a woman questions the coach, she’s on the quick road to becoming “That Mom.” “That Mom” is better served to just sit back and make cookies for the concession stand.

I don’t ever want to be “That Mom” who wears high-waisted Mom jeans. On the other hand, I probably won’t ever be the low-rise, thong underwear “that Mom” either. I’ll be “that Mom” who tries the expensive creams to get rid of my laugh lines, but I don’t think I could do the plastic surgery that makes “That Mom” look like she’s trying to be “That Sister.”  

Presenting petitions and speaking in front of the local school board definitely made me “That Mom” for a while. At parties or school events during those months, I could almost see the recoiling from “That Mom.” I imagine the reactions of teachers as we scheduled parent conferences were something along the lines of “Oh no. My next appointment is with THAT Mom.” I’m hoping that as new issues come up and new moms step forward, “That Mom” can go permanently into retirement.

I’ve been “That Mom” who called parents to make sure they are going to be supervising the party. I’ve been ‘That Mom’ who said no even when it meant tearful assertions that I was the only Mom who wouldn’t say yes. I’ve been “That Mom” who came to the defense of my kids when I thought they weren’t being treated fairly. I’ve also been “That Mom” who let my kid take his or her lumps for a bad decision even when it meant facing tough consequences from someone other than me.

With our oldest two now in college at Penn State, I have mostly avoided being “That Mom” who makes faculty members cringe. No calls to professors. No asking for special favors. No working behind the scenes for special privileges (not that I’m high enough up the food chain to get them anyhow). I admit to a few whispered suggestions about class schedules and one or two proofreads for grammar only – but only when they ask. It can be hard to draw the lines between “That Mom” and “That Instructor.”

We can be “That Boss” or “That Neighbor.” I’ve probably been “That Driver” and “That Pet Owner.” If advocating for my kids, fighting for what’s right when I see something wrong or using my skills and abilities to support my children makes me “That Mom,” so be it.