I was kicked out of my mom’s group this week. At first I was furious, completely outraged and embarrassed. After a few days, the initial sting wore off and I realized how little I actually cared about my banishment and the “connections” made during the mommy outings. Not only was I ousted but also invited to never return again but good luck finding another mommy group. So what did I do to offend the mommy mafia?

It could have been one of several things….

After several play dates at local children’s museums, gyms, and zoos I connected with only one could be friend…she of course was that gal who rarely attends functions. A brave woman, a woman who knows how to coexist with other women would have instantly become her best friend and easily asked for her phone number so they could get together and make a quiche. But those of us attending mommy meetups don’t exactly have the best woman to woman social skills do we? If we did, we wouldn’t need to join a damn playgroup.

Yet in all my desperation to make a new friend, I could not bring myself to give her my mommy business card, and would frankly have found it easier to walk up to a strange man on the street and ask for his number.

At one toddler playgroup, I overheard another woman whispering to a mom of twins about a craft project she did at a different mom’s group. Was the grass really greener on the other side of the mommy meetup fence? Two weeks later I headed to the zoo to meet a new moms group and see what they were all about.

Welcome to Stepford. Upon my arrival I was immediately greeted by 8 smiling faces, 5 of whom I believe were named Cindy. I was asked several questions about my upbringing in the church (uh oh here we go) and then promptly ignored for ten minutes, it could have been longer because after two minutes I began to have an Ally McBeal moment in which I was switching their matching hairdos in various shades of color-treated blonde, dishwater blond, and platinum blonde from head to head.

As we stood in line at the zoos entrance, the perfectly quaffed mommy mafia stood chatting about what so and so did on Tuesday and someones husband john just loved the meatless lasagna recipe that one of the Cindys had passed onto the group. I noticed their Adidas tennies, matching Eddie Bauer shirts in various pastel shades, and their Jeep brand strollers. Their ears were adorned with identical pairs of earrings purchased at the last Lia Sophia party they all attended together. I stood there in my Maurice’s shirt, and payless kicks complimenting their children, making small talk and trying my best to fit in.

After another 20 minutes of half smiles and darted glances from the Cindy’s as if to say “do we really have to talk to you? We didn’t invite you!” I came to the conclusion that these were not my peeps. So I did what any desperate and disappointed mom would do, I hung back at the Seahorse exhibit and ditched them.

Apparently, after that an APB went out about me, the rebel without a pottery barn diaper bag. Below an unflattering image of me taken from aquarium surveillance video read the warning…this woman is considered to be both overweight and non religious. She has a long list of priors including blatant non-rsvp-ing, and egregious non participation…and she didn’t even have to endure childbirth.

So it could have been that…or it could have been that I was out of town and then out of state for a total of 5 weeks and did not log into my meetup account thus encouraging the moms of my first mommy group to exile me without a shred of understanding.

Either way, I’m not missing out on anything. But the mommy mafia had better watch their backs; I may just start a Mommy playgroup of my own for other rebel mommies. We’ll fly a pink and purple version of the confederate flag, and wear Old Navy flip flops, and feed our children processed foods.

We stopped at the mall this weekend to pick up some last minute touches for Chibby’s new big boy room (unvailing on this very blog tomorrow).   I climbed out of the mini-van and while Techie grabbed the baby I used the dark tinted windows of the car next to me to check my appearance.  I fluffed my curls, used my finger to wipe away some stray lip gloss, smoothed my cute little jacket,  and adjusted my top to make sure I had just the right amount of cleavage.I turned and walked toward the mall with my boys and as I clicked the remote to lock the van I looked back over my shoulder.  From that angle I could see a man and kid sitting in the car that I’d just been using as a mirror.  Complete and utter mortification.  I was right up in the window and still have no idea how I missed the guy sitting right on the other side of the glass.   

While shopping at Target this morning I noticed a fairly good looking young guy looking at me.   I went back to my browsing and looked up again to see the same guy give me the once over with the eyes and then smile.  I thought to myself “Hey ya! Mama’s still got it!” So I walked to the register with a little extra wiggle in my step. 

Tonight as I was tossing my pantyhose in the laundry something dark caught my eye.  As I held up the hose, I could see splatters of mud from the ankles to the knees on the back of both legs.  Sure enough the same mud splatters are all over the heels and on the hem of my skirt. 

Here I was walking around all day looking like I’d been out 4 wheeling.  The smile from earlier suddenly seemed more like a snicker.  Apparently, what Mama’s still got is the incredible talent for embarrassing herself.

All this being said, I’m pleased to be adding Mortified Mama Mondays to my blog line up.   Mortified Mama Mondays are my chance to share my red faced moments, and those of my readers, with the world.  If you’ve got an embarrassing Mama moment post about it and send me a link you could be featured on Mortified Mama Monday.

So hold onto these little morsels of mortification, laugh at my expense, and take solace in these stories when it happens to you: 

Fighting the war on phlegm has kept me a prisoner and my home and prevented many a possible public humiliations this week so I have only one nearly mortifying event this week. 

After cleaning every surface of the house with Clorox wipes yesterday in hopes of ridding the world of pink eye germs I accidentally tried to rid my nose of germs by picking up what I thought was a tissue and wiping my nose.

It was only after a thorough wipe that the burning started and I realized that my tissue was in fact a Clorox wipe.  Had Techie been there…utter mortification. 

 P.S. Since my mortification wasn’t complete without an audience I thought I’d share a magazine worthy embarrassment from my past: 

It was the day of my high school graduation and I was making the rounds at all the graduation parties for my friends.  My formerly skinny figure was dressed in a very short light weight knit black dress.  I was looking good and on top of the world.  

When I bent over to hug a friend, who was seated on the couch, unbenownst to me my dress did the static cling crawl clear up over my butt.  As people started to shout “Kim your butt!” I thought my dress was a bit too short and a sliver of cheeks might be hanging out. 

I stood up quickly and whirled around to apologize for mooning my friends only to show the other half of the room a full on view of my mesh pantie clad ba-donka-donk.  I didn’t receive any complaints…but I never wore the dress again.