I stumbled home from work at 9:00 p.m. last night and sitting in the family room were Mrs. Wife and two of her Consigliere from the Mommy Mafia. They were all drinking wine, eating little snacky things and watching/making fun of The Bachelor. There was hysterical laughter. The only thing missing was a young, shirtless cabana boy peeling the skins off grapes and fanning them with palm fronds.
The caporegime are all fantastically tan. They are bronzed suburban goddesses. During the week, they spend the sunny summer afternoons on the beach with the kiddies. They don’t fight shore traffic or beach crowds because all the commoners are at work.
I, on the other hand, spend my days in an office cubicle under a florescent light. I am pale, like a vampire, and the harsh white light accentuates all the imperfections in my skin. I was meditating on what a sweet life the Mommy Mafia leads and how I got myself into this mess.
The Mommy Mafia are a group of Jersey Shore stay-at-home moms whose sole responsibility it is to raise the children while their husbands drag their sorry asses off to work every day.
I have been schooled many times by stay-at-home moms who insist that raising children IS a job and a damn hard one at that. I concur. But there is something enviable about not having to be in an office for a specific number of hours on specific days of the week and see the same gaggle of people who you don’t really enjoy being around all that much. Especially during the summer months. At least the Mommy Mafia can have someone thrown out of the family. I’ve seen it done and it’s not pretty.
I’m not spewing negativity. I’m just sayin’.