Social Bondage and the PTA

6 11 2011

Zombies.

Freaking ZOMBIES.

There is something strange that happens to a person when they have a child. Something alarming. As I have discovered there is a group of people who seem to sense it. They can smell it like a shark smells the blood of freshly injured prey miles away through the water. You become a target to this mob. This crowd.

Parents.

And these aren’t the George Romero sort of zombies either. No, parents are quick and ready to strike given a moments notice. Many have little in the way of personal space and every one of them is ever watching, waiting for the perfect time to strike. It starts innocently enough but like a one night stand with a psych ward patient it quickly sours after.

First comes the little things. The comments.

“Oh what a cute sweater! Is that from GAP kids?”

Then its the organizations. (This is where, undoubtedly, you’ll find the cult ringleaders)

“Come join the PTA! We can organize fundraisers and educational events paid for by those fundraisers AND then drink this vat of black cool aid and talk about fundraising some more!”

Before you know it people are walking up to you randomly to say hello and discuss your childs day while you wait to pick them up from school as if somehow there now sits a sign above your head indicating that yes, you absolutely want to be socialized with on the edge of the crowd, a solid thirty feet from the rest  of the cluster of parents composed primarily of women. (Not that the fact that they’re mostly women is a bad thing, I just don’t want to discuss excercise routines and what’s happening on The Real Housewives of Wherever)

There appears to be an underlying connectivity or at least people who have given themselves into spawning want to think there is with others of their kind. Clearly we can be friends because we both have functioning reproductive systems! Score!

I’m not a big fan of that idea.

Strangers inquiring to the details of my family’s life has always made me weary. And I don’t mean the sort of small talk that involves a bit of informative give and take. Nor am I referencing the exchange of details with close friends or other family members. I’m talking about the pointed, persistent drive to unlock the secrets of my child’s day. I don’t understand this strange happening. It kind of gives me the creeps.

Perhaps if there were more individuals that I shared commonalities with. Perhaps if there were men about similar to myself. The anti social tend to avoid groups unless presented with a high enough concentration of other anti social beings at which point they tend to coalesce into a single, multi-celled hive mind of distaste and distrust.

I’d be comfortable there.

I do not think that there has been a time, at least in recent memory, that strangers expressed such an interest in anything having to do with myself for as long as I can remember. Who knew that the relatively simple act of creating a child could result in such irritation? It’s not that I don’t want my child to spend time interacting with others thus hopefully sparing him from the life of a stressed out, coked up sociopathic killer but honestly can we be a little less invasive at the start? I feel as though the scalpel is getting ahead of the anesthesia team.

Lets take it slow generic example parent to whom I am directing this post. I’ll open up eventually. Maybe not to drink your PTA cool aid purchased through funds generated from the sale of,’I feel the need to boost my own self esteem through publicly displaying the far from timeless accomplishments of my children plastered all over my bumper’ sticker collection. Just saying.

I’m shy, a little skittish and I have a latex allergy. Be gentle. And if I start yelling ‘Lassie’ its time to kick it down a notch. (It’s our safe word)

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2 responses

14 12 2011
Ermilia

*Falls out of chair dying of hysterical laughter*

-Elia

15 12 2011
Kyllan Brindle

And it’s comments like that which make me think, no – it wasn’t too far. 🙂

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