Queen Bee Moms

There is a disconnect here between me and the schools. I volunteered a fair amount at the schools in Lafayette. I chose Miller, the grade school, over Tecumseh Middle School and Montessori — Montessori always had plenty of over-achiever parent types who were happy to pick up the slack. And even Miller had its core group of dedicated volunteer parents. But there was a place for me.

The schools here are big. And we are definitely in an upper-middle class area here. So the volunteer moms are multiplied; there are many, many super-involved moms who have dedicated their lives to their children and are more than happy to be at the school every day, taking care of every little detail better than someone like me could. After all, they love their children just a little bit more than the rest of us.

Now I have to admit, I've just read Rosalind Wiseman's latest, Queen Bee Moms and Kingpin Dads. So I'm looking to apply my newfound knowledge of parent world to the local suburban grade school. I'm just a casual observer, but I had the Queen Bee Mom picked out from day one.

I've been to three volunteer activities, and she was at all of them. She wears not a regular nametag, but a laminated "volunteer" tag on a lanyard with her children's names on ribbons. (To be fair, others have the tags on lanyards, but not the ribbons with the names.) She wears the proper mom uniform of coordinated sweatsuit or capri pants and flip flops. She is loud, laughs a lot, is on a first-name basis with the secretary. She takes charge, barking orders, making it clear that she is willing and able to do any task that no one else will do. And I'm sure she does — and does it faster. Better.

She's the It Mom, the Queen, and everyone knows it.

None of this means she isn't pleasant; she seems nice enough. And I'm sure she is — til you cross her.

Mostly she fills in the picture for me. She's there, she and others like her, and I can see that I am not needed. People like me —I'm not quite sure which category I fall into, invisible, maybe? — women like me can "help out," but we're not really needed.

It's OK, though. Sylvia saw me there, and she knows I am helping with her performance.

And even better, I know what my next writing project is. And every time I see these people, I gather more anecdotes. We'll just call it research.