Sock 'er, Mom!

The door creaked open around 10:00 pm, and in walked my lovely wife, Fran, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She was carrying two coffees, which didn't surprise me since she had just come from Starbucks--the Room Mothers for the First Graders had just conducted a meeting at the coffee shop to prepare for the Valentine's Day party for next week.

I had been a little worried about this meeting, because Fran's nemesis, Gilda, is in charge of all the events for the parties. When it comes to the politics of Mom stuff, I'm generally disinterested, but this woman seems particularly nasty--Fran has described a series of run-ins with her where she is oafish and bullying and annoying--I usually avoid run-ins with people like this.

The first example of her poor behavior that sticks in my mind is when Fran's best friend, Linda, invited Gilda to go to lunch with them. Linda is a saint and just too polite to exclude her when they were making plans in her presence. Gilda's response was to let out a sigh, shrug her shoulders and say "Oh, why the hell not?" Gee, lady, thank you so much for gracing us with your holy presence. So she went to lunch, dominated the conversation with loud, abrasive, mindless chatter, and complained about how she really never wanted kids in the first place and how she got stuck with two and can't wait until they are grown and gone so she can get her "old life" back. Fran and Linda were horrified but quietly and patiently smiled through lunch. Fran then instructed Linda to please, please never invite Gilda to lunch with them again. (By the way, this makes me jealous of the Leisurely Lunch Club).

As Room Mom coordiantor, Gilda assigned a particularly tough craft for the Thanksgiving project, overriding the other moms' objections, and then didn't show up for the parties to assist with the craft. To top it off, she was supposed to provide a key component for the project, like feathers for a turkey model or something critical like that, and she forgot. So the party fell flat and the kids were disappointed.

There's this other thing about Fran: she isn't as likely to forgive and forget as some of us are--she's more the "You're not gonna get me again" type of personality and she plays to win. When I heard there was a meeting coming up, I got a little worried that there would be a bloodbath of some sort, but Fran assured me that she wasn't going to pick a fight...but she also assured me that she wasn't going to back down.

I got home from work and saw that Fran looked very cute with her hair pulled back and made up very nicely. It didn't hit me that she was "sticking it" to Gilda, who likes to brag about how pretty she is (I mean, really, what kind of adult acts this way?) She left for the meeting and I was hoping for the best.

When Fran walked back in with a big smile, I confronted her "Oh, no, you didn't get into it with Gilda, did you?"

"Oh, she hates me for sure now!"

"Oh my gosh, what happened? What did you do to her?"

"She started it right off the bat--I told her 'Gilda I've got a bone to pick with you! Why do all the other Room Moms get an Email that we are having a meeting, and I've got to learn about it secondhand? I'm a Room Mom, too!'

She answered 'Oh, you know what it is? I have a list of people that I send notifications to, and you're probably just not on the list.' Then she turned and started talking to someone else!

I had to interrupt her and say 'Gilda. Excuse me, Gilda! I need to get on your list, please, so I can know what's going on, too. I'm supposed to be helping.'

Can you believe that? She wasn't going to put me on the list!

So, Gilda rolled her eyes, sighed, and flung her address book open and, with an annoyed look, took out her pen and asked for my email address.

I answered 'It's Fran35c...'

'35c? What is that? Are you advertising your bra size or something?' (I picked "Fran35c" 12 years ago when I was in college and all the "good" Email addresses seemed to be taken on our ISP).

'Uh, C? no. Maybe when I was 12 years old. No, these are D's Baby!' The rest of the ladies at the meeting roared in laughter, then all eyes shifted to Gilda to see if she could return the volley.

Gilda, chuckling nervously, sheepishly replied 'I'm lucky to completely fill an A cup...'

(a glimpse into what ladies talk about when no men are present)

'Oh, sorry.'"

At that time, as if on cue, the young man from Starbucks came by the table, which effectively ended the "Battle of the Bra Sizes" conversation. He asked if there was anything he could get for the table.

My lovely, shameless, bride, oblivious of the fact that Starbucks, AKA the Evil Empire, is effectively a caffeine drug-running outfit trying to exploit the world, replied "How about a free refill?" (smiling and batting eyes) He turned around and left the table, then returned with a Decaf Grande Misto and placed it quietly in front of Fran.

A couple of minutes later, one of the ladies asked Fran loudly "Do they give free refills here? I've not heard of that..."

Fran replied "Well, maybe they are just taking care of us tonight since we're such a big group"

Gilda, with a sad, surprised, look tapped her frozen cappuccino and said "I had to PAY for MY refill!"

Without missing a beat, Fran replied, "See--THAT's the difference between and A cup and a D cup! You're really missing out!" Uproarious laughter from the group.

On second thought, I'll stick with the dog-eat-dog business world and leave the Ladies of the Leisurely Lunch club to fight it out amongst themselves...