Momfia in the Hood

Caution: No fatness is mentioned in the following blog. The material contained therein is not directly related to fat issues or fat woman problems. (I'm saying it happens to skinny people, too.)  But I'm already digressing.

Warning: Bitchiness follows. May be extreme bitchiness.  (Just ask HIM, the man to whom I'm married.  HIM knows about the bitchiness.)  May be bad for your mental health to read this blog.  May cause warts, instantaneous blinding, gaseous pains, and sneezing.  No neighbors were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Okay. The mafia isn't dead. It's been replaced by the MOMfia. My daughter's preschool class's room mother was a card carrying, originating member. She carries her Gucci purse like it's got a .45 in it. She drives her Denali as if at any moment the police will start chasing her. I can vividly recall a moment in time where she was sitting in it at the preschool parking lot, waiting for other mommies to deliver envelopes of money for the gift cards she will be purchasing for the teacher and the aide. (Picture surreptitious women sneaking up to the Denali, and passing the envelope through the window, and maybe kissing her college class ring. Maybe she went to Brown, not Vassar.)

She'll make you an offer you can't refuse.  Fahgedaboddit.

In any case the room mother with the Denali and the Gucci purse doesn't hold a candle to my neighbors. I live in a cul-de-sac. (Cul-de-sac defined: the bottom of a pouch.  I swear, that's what it said in my dictionary.  Also the closed end of a pouch.  Also a blind alley or passageway.  I suppose Americans have made it their own.  In America, as far as I know, it means the dead end of a neighborhood street.)  Anyway, that's where I live.  It's fun.  The kids play in the court.  I get to avoid toys, bikes, and stuff when I drive in and out, and most of it doesn't belong to my family.  There's fireworks galore, and I don't just mean on the fourth of July.  It's Peyton Place without the cute, adorable and/or hunky actors making time with other characters.

This is also known as my street.

God help me.

So I'm not supposed to blog about my neighbors (and you have to know that I'm going to do it anyway) but there is one who drives me insane.  (Of course, there are a significant number of things and/or people that drive me insane or I wouldn't have anything to blog about.)  But uh-oh, I'm blogging about the forbidden thing.  Now I'm going to be in big trouble.

I think I can determine how this really originated.  Pre-mommyhood, I didn't realize that when I became a parent that I would have to be a parent to other people's children.  It's an unstated rule.  No one will tell you.  It just happens.  You gotta do it.  Like Nike.  Once you have a child, other children flock around, and then you have to be a surrogate parent.  Furthermore, you may not like those other children very much because their parents let them act like little buttwipes.  (Buttwipe being the best term I could come up with on the spur of the moment and least offensive in comparison to what I was really thinking.)  This is the basis of why I'm disliking the one particular neighbor.

This neighbor, who I've called names so often that my daughter has commented, "Mommy, are the cows home?" in reference to them, is the least likable person that I've ever had the displeasure to meet.  If I never meet this person again it will be too soon.  This person is a fervid believer of thou shall do unto others as I don't do unto others, but don't you dare bring that up because I will deny EVERYTHING!

Upon bottomless reflection and the longing to rant about the issue so that I may let it go, I came to some inferences.  Deep seated, psychological inferences.  It's my belief that I have deciphered this person's personal ten commandments. Seriously, this is how this person thinks.  (This should be fun.)

1.  Thou shall only apologize in one direction from you to myself.  I shall never apologize for that goes against my personal beliefs, no matter how wrongity-wrong-wrong I am.  (I'm not wrong.  You're just wrong for thinking it.)



2.  Thou shall believe in MY religion and not your crappy one that really doesn't count, except that you're not a pagan and I'm not so sure about that since you let your daughter dress as a witch one year for Halloween.  (Witches = badness, except for Sabrina, Samantha, and Glenda, but only if I'm in a benign mood.)

3.  Thou shall NOT direct my children not to be poorly behaved, even though I said you should, because my children will lie to me about what really happened and I will immediately take their side because they are ANGELs and you are scum, plus not of my religion. (See above.)  (Not of my religion = badness, like Charles Manson or Newt Gingrich.)



4.  Thou shall NOT mention all the favors you've done in the past for my family because no matter how many you've done, it doesn't equal the piddly amount I've done for you. Besides who's really counting?  (Keeping count = badness, kind of like any socioeconomical program that expects me to produce for a living.)

Diagram of dogly doobies. How can any canine possibly poop
that damn much?

5.  Thou shall ignore the dozens of cigarette butts that I toss willy-nilly about my property, your property, and everywhere I see fit to toss the buttiness.  I have complete rights to do as I see fit with the remnants of my cigs and you can do little about it.  (Complaining about my hygienic standards = badness, like 'How dare you judge me?')




6.  Thou shall ignore the fact that my dog wanders around freely and poops wherever he sees fit.  We cannot be bothered to watch where he poops, much less pick it up, as is stated by the laws of our city.  How dare you suggest that our dog be contained in a legal manner?  You are scum for suggesting that our dog be treated...like a dog. (Suggesting that we pick up our dog (gasp!) poop = badness, or 'It'll wash away in a few months, just don't step in it.') 

Why, yes, yes he does.  I think they feed him Ex-Lax.

7.  Thou shall ignore the fact that we drink alcohol constantly and leave the beer cans everywhere.  Thou shall ignore the fact that we throw them down the water drain as well because obviously our mamas never taught anything about civil conscience.  (I should really cross this one off because they're obviously just being 'green' and planning on using their empty beer cans for a gigantic beer can sculpture on their front lawn.  Silly me.)

8.  Thou shall ignore the fact that we leave all kinds of crap (not necessarily the dogly kind) on our yard in a way that reminds me of the hoarding show on TLC.  (Maybe I should cross this one off too because they could be planning their own reality show.  Who am I to impend their imminent stardom?)

9.  Thou shall never again mention anything that we've borrowed from you and never bothered to return or even discuss why we haven't returned it to you.  We (the royal we) may do as we please.  (This includes cash, DVDs, toys, and anything we many have 'borrowed.')  (Reminding us of stuff we borrowed = badness or 'You should have known better than to have loaned it to us.')

10.  Thou shall ignore the fact that I allow my offspring to run screaming into the night, every night, every single, solitary night, because since they are home-schooled and I allow them to 'sleep' in so that I may 'sleep' in.  So what if you and all the other neighbors have to get up early for various other reasons.  If you complain you are impeding my children's development into perennial laziness and sloth.  Stupid neighbor.  (Complaining about noise = badness or 'You should just sleep in, too.')

In conclusion, I have tried to be a good neighbor.  But my idea of 'good' only stretches only so far.  (I think that particular rubber band has snapped a long, long, long time ago.)  HIM has told me that I cannot post this blog.  It may be the one and only time that I'm going over HIM's head.  Basically, here's the one fingered salute for the not-so-stand up individuals that I'm discussing.  It ain't libel if it's true and here's a little primer on libel for my readers and for my least favorite neighbors:

How to prove libel - There are several ways a person must go about proving that libel has taken place. For example, in the United States, the person first must prove that the statement was false. Second, that person must prove that the statement caused harm. And, third, they must prove that the statement was made without adequate research into the truthfulness of the statement. These steps are for an ordinary citizen. In the case of a celebrity or public official trying to prove libel, they must prove the first three steps, and must (in the United States) prove the statement was made with the intent to do harm, or with reckless disregard for the truth. Usually specifically referred to as "proving malice". - Sexton, Kevin (2010). "Us political systems"

There I feel better.