PTA-types



Paris, October 2009


My Mother* was 34 years old when I was born, which was considered old for having children in those days. Not being in the first flush of motherhood when I came along and after a 13 year gap from rearing my brothers, she did in fact have a rather jaundiced view of it all, swiftly dismissing a long list of things such as camping, kiddy birthday parties and school sports days with a shudder saying she’d already “done her bit”.

She also did not have too much time for the mothers of my peers. High on her list of irritating mothers were “The Young Mums” who only spoke about babies at birthday parties (boring). Special horror was reserved for “PTA-Types” whom she found equally boring and slightly alarming. But at the top of the list were “Pushy Mothers”. Her much-used example of a Pushy Mother were the ones who would sit with stop-watches at my brothers Western Province swimming training, haranguing their children to do better. This my mother viewed as rather scandalous, not to mention a bit vulgar. The concept of Tiger Mothers would probably render my Mother speechless.

Needless to say, I did not grow up in a fluffy fug of Barbie Doll Cakes, although I did have my fair share of ballet and Guides and all that. Nothing then to explain this born-again motherhood thing which I'm currently experiencing and am struggling to reconcile. Even as I write this, I’m wearing my Halloween Witchy earrings, having just finished a Halloween Costume Sale at the school in my role as a Grade 5 ‘Class Parent”. I’m hanging around waiting for a PTA “meet the Board” meeting – practicing my Count-to-10-Deep- Breathing-excercises, on the off-chance that I may find the meeting a little bit patronizing. I am ‘transitioning’ the experts will tell you from my old life to my new one. I read these things on the Internet, so I know. I  may however, just have become my Mothers worst nightmare, and I havn't even factored in the Sunday School teaching bit either.

"Did I move to a tropical island to join the PTA?” I ask myself, late at night. It wasn't quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more Cowboy-hat-wearing-yoga-on-beach-Mom when I got here and then I went and joined the PTA.  What was I thinking?

It is true that I have a sneaky admiration for Tiger Mothers (although I’m frankly too lazy to be one myself) and I don't feel productive unless I've tried to enhance or improve just about everything around me and then worried about the kids future SAT scores - but does this make me a Pushy PTA Mother?

The biggest compliment that women seem to pay each other these days is to say that “so and so is really organized”. We all glow with that kind of affirmation and feel like we're actually getting somewhere in our rather chaotic lives.

Maybe I've detoxed just a little too much, and have become far too balanced. Happiness is actually quite a tricky state of mind to be in all the time. You sort of worry that you arn't worrying. So then you go and organise something else and pile it on, in order to give yourself something to worry about. It's like writing out lists only so that you can then cross out the things you've aleady done. I do things like this.

I realise that I definetly need to get to a big city fast** and go shopping for random girly clothes and stop worrying. I'm starting to scare myself.

* My mother reads my blog,and since this is all true, she will not be offended, hey Ma? 
** I arrive in Cape Town on November 4th and Joburg on the 9th November.