Just the other day, I had the opportunity to sit and wait for my oldest kiddo to get out of school. While I was waiting ever so patiently, I listened to the conversation occurring between two moms in their gynormous SUV’s, parked next to me. As I sat and pretended to read my car manual (yes, I was blatantly eavesdropping), the women chatted it up. Their conversation went from what they were doing over the weekend (boring) to whether or not they had watched “Big Brother” the night before (even more boring). Then their conversation turned to a bragging tone about their children, and my ears just perked up a little as the womanly competitive side of me began to kick in. I knew my kids were better but I at least wanted to hear what they had to say. It went something like this:

Mother #1: Oh my! Little Susie sure is getting big! How does she like that beginning gymnastics class? And you have her enrolled in that ballet class that starts soon? I heard that Gymboree has adorable tights and leotard combinations. She’d look soooo darling in the newest pattern! Pure saccharine is dribbling down her chin, pooling at the base of her oversized tires.

Mother #2: Of course! Susie is really excelling at her cartwheels and somersaults. I know that those little feet are destined for ballet slippers! And don't forget, baseball season is just around the corner. Is little Bobby going to play t-ball this year? Make sure that he gets those new Nike cleats and matching Addidas practice wear. All the boys are wearing them this year. Good luck finding them locally. We had to find them at Nordstorms’ in San Fran over the weekend while we were on our annual spring shopping trip. She looks at #1 rather smugly. Top that, San Francisco shopping trips. Hmmph.

Mother #1: Yes, but Bobby is soooo far advanced for his five years so he will be doing more of a coach pitch. We really want to encourage that sort of behavior. He's just finishing up basketball right now and he's also doing karate. He's an orange belt, you know. We may travel to Washington so that he can practice sparring with other more advanced opponents. I’ll definitely be on the look for a nice Macy’s or Gucci outlet. My purses are so out this time of year, ya know? See biotch, I can top San Fran. I went out of state. Take that, pow!

Mother #2: That's wonderful! Oh look, Bobby and Susie are walking out together! Can’t you just picture the two of them as the Homecoming King and Queen, oh, in the year 2021! They are both friends again, relishing in the thought that their children would become populoids together.

After that comment, I seriously puked a little in my mouth. I gulped and swallowed the bile back down, all the while smoothing out my ratty generic jeans and looking over the stains on my hubby’s t-shirt - which of course I was wearing. I then began thinking about what I could contribute to their conversation. How could I top any of that? More importantly, why would I want to? I don't like the whole "mommy" competition that so many women fall into and it’s really no secret that I just don’t play well with other moms because I just don’t give a crap. I’ve never been one to follow the trends nor would I ever aspire to. I’m just not that sort of girl. I consider myself to be a tomboy by nature and that part of me truly shows through in my overall attitude of motherhood.

I relish the fact that none of my school age children have the least bit interest in organized sports. We celebrate organized chaos at our house. It’s free, unpredictable, and so entertaining that even the two year old plays along. Every weekend is our weekend; we don’t give away our Saturday mornings nor our weekday nights. Sure, we sometimes organize “sporting events” and they do revolve around certain “seasons,” typically being bow or rifle, but they're done together as a family team (boys go with dad, girl goes shopping with mom). We’ve even gone so far to think about adding a season or two involving certain fish or quackers but then again, we wouldn’t want it to interfere with our daily salamander hunting, chicken chasing, monster truck racing, or goat wrangling events. We all have our priorities.

So in hindsight, if these two lucky ladies were to ask me what my children were doing, this is probably what I’d say to them:

Just for dramatics, I’d probably sit there for a moment, letting the tension of what I’m about to speak, build to an exhausting level.

Mommazilla: Well, ding dang y’all, last time I checked my calendar, Gun-Gun was still practicing the art of sidewalk lickin’ and still doesn’t have his timing just right. He’s having a helluva time tryin’ to slurp that slippery lil’ ice cube devil up before it melts back inta tobaccer juice. And C-dub – well we’z sure is proud of that lil’ feller – cuz he’s aspirin’ to become the family’s first monster truck racer. Hell, he’s headin’ off to Georgia to go to his millioneth rally and we’re down right proud that he’s been promoted to official tire air checker. He gets a fancy shirt, yall! Oh, and then there’s our little princess superstar Taterbug. She's ‘bout perfected the fancy art of pole dancin’ and she just bought her first set of shiny pasties and matching still – et- toes using her tip money! She’s a regular at Whoreuoree, kind of like Gymboree but for adults and pre-teens, so we're really excited about her shakin’ her money maker potential.

Oh lawdy! Where has the time gone? Thank God I Tivo'ed Jerry Springer! Cousin Clay is on his show today and we’re gonna find out if he’s that baby’s daddy of Cousin Charlene! Awd-de-yos ladies!

I wink and spit out my chaw before climbing back into my rig and squealing out of the parking lot with my three kiddos hanging out the window, screaming their goodbyes.

I'm not sure what the super perky super duo would say back; I actually doubt anything at all. Really, how could you? A reply like that would lead to sympathetic smiles and head nods from the gruesome twosome - not the sort of awe inspiring admiration I'd like to think I'd get. Oh well. I guess I'll keep my comments to myself and settle with the fact that I'm not that kind of mom, but I do like the mom I am.