I have come to dread the school drop off. It all started with the Hunter welly brigade – rich 40 something mothers who hang around at the school gates bemoaning what a hard day they have had making some organic nosh for the family, how they feel so hard done by because they have only managed 3 holidays so far this year and are desperately in need of a break from lounging around their country pile. Now we have gym club mums too. These mums are super skinny and are only ever seen dropping their children off in active wear before dashing off to the gym – not that I’m bitter but I feel like i could do my ironing on their stomachs they are that flat. Then we have these mums who have millions of kids but always look uber beautiful and unruffled. They’re not particularly mumsy, I mean you couldn’t imagine their kids giving them a full on kiss with ten tonnes of snot dropping out their noses. Or you know a bedtime milk and biscuits picnic. But they always have loads of kids! Then there’s the “others” I’m including myself in this bracket. We are the rebels, the fat, cuddly, looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards kind of mums. Usually seen sprinting back to the car after drop off so they can make it to work before 9am. This is me. Always feeling inadequate. Always on the receiving end of the laser stares from Hunter welly brigade and the looks of smugness crossed with disgust from gym club and uber cool mums. The ones no one stands to talk with in the playground but kind of edge around cautiously like they might catch something nasty.
Here’s to the others – Or the keeping it real mums!