Have you seen the commercial for the children’s allergy medicine? Two women are sitting in a park on a play date when a boy runs up, sneezes, and both women, like gunslingers, pull out his emergency medicine for mom. A mother has an oozing bag of mangled medicine. The other mom takes her handy pre-filled dose of medication out of her and administers it to Junior and never misses a beat. The woman with the messy bag cringes in embarrassment. Quick Dose Mom flashes a condescending smile of victory. Freeze frame here because I have a problem with this whole scenario. First of all, find me a park where children are playing and jumping to the sound of their mothers laughing. The last park I went to, a kid peed on the slide, another bit his sister in the face, someone found a hypodermic needle in the sandbox, and they painted my car with gang graffiti before I turned off the engine. And it’s not just moms anymore. I saw two dads, a grandpa, a babysitter, a kid who was thrown out the door of a van when the parents ‘went by’, another one who I’m pretty sure lives there, and a man in slippers shuffling across the parking lot a lot a lot talking alone. And who has time for play dates? I’m busy. My son gets online playdates at the DMV.
TV moms are impeccably dressed. No wrinkles, no stains. Right now I’m wearing a crusty peanut butter t-shirt and matching hoodies that I’ve been wearing since Tuesday. I once spent a whole day with a suction cup attached to the side of my head before anyone told me. TV moms are happily chatting. Wrong. Sara tells Sue how lazy her husband is; while Bertha (who just put vodka in her water bottle) complains about how much Erma’s butt has drooped, who can’t hear her because she’s too busy spanking her son in the parking lot. Business moms are always deep in conversation while their children play on the horizon. Hello! Do you see Law and Order? My son once disappeared behind a bush for a second and I started screaming, scratching at my sweater, and ripping up the other moms. And what happens to the child who approaches his mother to sneeze? Please. My son may be bleeding from his eyes and won’t stop digging for help. Commercial mom takes the bag of medicines from her. We went on vacation and I forgot Junior’s inhaler. She reaches into her bag and locates the medicine bag immediately. I once searched my bag for a Band-Aid and unearthed four half-eaten bars of chocolate, a pair of underwear, and a dead gerbil. No band-aid.
The commercial boy takes his medication with a smile. I have to throw my son to the ground, hold his nose, and threaten to take away his Christmas if he doesn’t take it. The commercial kid smiles and thanks toothlessly as my son seeks revenge with a magic marker on the living room wall. Patty Perfect then gives Susie Slack a condescending smile of victory. Well, I must admit, one is more or less on target. I have put Patty Perfect before. She’s the one who frowns when I bring chocolate when it’s my turn for preschool snack. When she put Diet Coke in her glass. When I breastfeed at the salad bar.
Yes, all that from a commercial. I’ll probably still buy it anyway. Looks great. I am sure that it will cost three times as much, I will leave it at home, and my son will not take it yet. So maybe the commercial will win after all. But I won’t let them tell me what normal mothers are like. Or how beautiful it looks either. Or success. Or happiness. What do they know?