Private Moms

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The other private school moms don't know about this site. Please don't tell them. It's our little secret! Shhh ….
As a private school mom, I would never wear anything fake, except if I could get away with it. For example, during PTA meetings … I mean Parent Club meetings. See, PTA meetings are so fake, that’s what public school parents go to. Real parent meetings are called Parent Club. Participation is 100% required, not voluntary, just like the PTA dues. Private School Moms are very involved in their school activities and children’s lives. Those public school moms only pay $25 for a year for PTA and that includes coupons. Coupons! Ridiculous! At our private school, the minimum mandatory Parent Club donation is $250 and none of us need to use coupons, except online because, you know, we’re not complete animals.
So, back to being Real. There is nothing more real than being a private school mom, especially our jewelry. I like to mix real diamonds with faux diamonds. Faux does not mean fake, it means they are hand-made in a factory. Cubic Zirconia is an example. It’s a gorgeous diamond like stone that looks exactly like a diamond. It’s very realistic looking and almost at hard. Diamonds are not perfect. They all have inclusions (little black dots inside) and Cubic Zirconias do not, which actually make cubic zirconia’s better. I love cubic zirconia so much that my wedding ring is not an actual diamond, but a cubic zirconia. My husband thought I would never find out. When I tried to pawn my engagement to pay for private school tuition, the older and very greasy pawn shop owner let me in on the truth. Do you think I would get mad at my husband for trying to pull off such a stunt? You would be wrong. I’m so proud of him for giving me a HUGE diamond. I’d prefer a 6 carat CZ over a .01 chip diamond any day. My husband is the BEST! Diamonds may be forever, but a CZ shows that you will really give your girl everything she wants to keep her happy.
Our children are also not fake. They are real. I know this because they constantly ask for food and for me to “feed them”. If they were fake, I could just plug them in and continue shopping instead of having to come home to “cook dinner” and by cook dinner we all know that means order Postmates. Sometimes, I wish for robot children. I feel like they would not only be easier, but would love me more and not be so demanding for things like “food” and “toiletries”. I wouldn’t get constant shade from them because I “forgot to pick them up” or “Didn’t send in the check to school.” My robot children could walk home, in the rain, and I could my nails touched up at Kim’s salon. My kids would be able to cook their own dinner and cook me dinner, too. Finally, their hands could be little vacuums that would pickup all the dust in the house. OK, Robot children are starting to sound pretty good right now. So, I have fake diamonds. My husband likes making me happy. How hard would it to find a couple of fake Robot kids? OH, haha, I kid, I love my children and would never trade them in for robot clones (or would I?)
So, as you can see, everything about me is real except for my diamonds, nails, hair color, teeth, cheeks, nose, eyebrows, lip color, clothes and possibly children (my husband and I will discuss that tonight). You may think that private school moms are so different. Some may say we are unapproachable, but we are just like you.
I tricked you! You probably thought I would discuss Private School for the letter P, being that I am a Private School Mom. Maybe you even thought I’d discuss pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicavolcanoconiosi, which is the longest word in the English language. Well, I’m discussing neither. Instead, I’m going to write about Patents. Specifically, the patents on paper. Oh, not just any type of paper … TOILET paper. There is a patent for the toilet paper roll holder that answers the age old question of do you place the roll of toilet paper hanging over or under. Since 1891, this has been such a hot topic that people have been assaulted, gotten divorced and even gone to jail over their preference.
If there’s a snow storm, a pandemic or you’re just a hoarder, everyone needs toilet paper. You know who you go to when the stores are out of toilet paper? Your friends that practice extreme couponing. Somewhere there was a $1 off manufacturer’s coupon that was doubled in addition to a store sale of BOGO. That’s extreme couponer’s speak for Buy One Get One Free. The store paid your friend $.50 to take that roll off their hands, so she bought 250 rolls. Yes, in the event of a pandemic and no toilet paper, I’m going to seek out Traci, she knows all about extreme couponing. Her kids go to public school.
Sure, there’s the bread and milk crowd who think they are superior. Let me tell you, I can survive on water, but there’s no way I’m scooping my poop with my hand. Ewww, that’s gross! Even the bottled water crowd has a saying “You can’t live without water.” Well, that is true. But, you CAN live without bottled water. So, I’m leaving that at the grocery store and going straight to the toilet paper aisle. Everyone poops and there’s no way I’m using a leaf or magazine page when we’ve run out of that soft papery white stuff. OH, was that too specific? Don’t act like you haven’t done it. You’re probably a sock pooper, which IMHO is even worse than a magazine page pooper. In some rare occasions, at the end of the toilet paper roll, I’ve used the brown cardboard tube that holds the toilet paper. Desperate times call for desperate measures. But, trust me, I will never, and I mean Never will I ever use a leaf.
So the age old question exists. Does the toilet paper go over the roll or under the roll? Over the roll has it’s benefits because it’s easier to grasp. Though, if there is any splatter, it may get on the roll, making it nasty and no one wants to use toilet paper that is used or full of other people’s fecal matter.
If the toilet paper roll hangs under, the previous user may have used his/her hand in a gross way and has now touched the toilet paper you are about to use.
We all know that human are just a disgusting animal with lots of fluids coming from every orifice. So, it could really be any fluid from any orifice of theirs or another person. If you’re a mom, it’s almost guaranteed those fluids will be a miniature replica of yours, just like the little person they came from.
So, to answer the big question … here is the patent.
Now that you are disgusted about toilet paper, I have done my job. When there’s a rush on that white quilted goodness, there will be one less person trying to squeeze me out of my roll of Charmin. All the toilet paper will be mine … all mine! Muahahaha
Blogging from A to Z with The Private School Mom: Q is for Quarantine
Our small Lake House maintained by a full-time housekeeper and her boyfriend.
It’s been a minute since you’ve heard from me. Life happened, but now I’m back to spill all of the secrets and give you an inside look at my life. So, let’s continue with the letter Q. The entire country is going ballistic because someone, who obviously never attended Private School, has a little cough.
Thank Goodness I haven’t caught the SARS-C0V2, but that’s because my family and I are on lockdown. I would have every family member quarantine at their own house, but traveling between all of them would be exhausting. I consider our main home the one in the Suburbs. Oh, the irony … we paid double for our home because of the amazing public school district. Yet, my kids attend Private School.
Just like you don’t choose your husband, you don’t choose where your kids want to go to school. Either it’s a match or not. I did absolutely nothing to influence my children to choose private school over public school. Just like I didn’t do anything to make my husband choose me over the other girls out there. OK, maybe a little nudging with both of those things. OK, fine … a LOT of nudging. What do you want from me? I’m a woman who knows what she wants and I’m going to get it, no matter what. Huh? I sound like a spoiled princess that needs to cut up her credit card? Sorry, I lost it in the house, somewhere, and I just can’t find it because our house is so huge!
Most of the houses in this area are small so we really got lucky to find one that would fit our fabulous and expensive lifestyle. The bonus is our home is so big, I can walk from room to room and save money by canceling my gym membership. In addition, lifting all of those heavy boxes from shopping online is my daily strength workout.
Our second home is the lake house. I mean, doesn’t everyone have a lake house? Otherwise, you need to stay at a resort or even worse rent an airBnB, which is really just squatting in someone else’s lake house. People have called me many things in my life and squatter will not be one of them. I believe a lake house should be shared with friends so I added on a few extra bedrooms. The only person that lives there full-time is our Lake House Housekeeper. She convinced me she must live there the other 50 weeks during the year to maintain it and keep it clean. Only she and her boyfriend live in our home, as I would hate to have another family sully our fine linens.
When we visited last, I found receipts with different male names ordering 6-8 dinners. I hope her boyfriend doesn’t find out. She doesn’t have to worry, I can keep a secret. Obviously, she orders a bunch of meals to just taste them. We must have the same nutritionist. He says to stay fit I shouldn’t eat meals, just taste them. I follow his advice and order 5 meals, to taste. His advice doesn’t work for me, but it obviously works for her since she is really skinny. The other way I know she is the right housekeeper for us is because she put together a welcome book … just for our family … isn’t that sweet? It had our wifi password (in case we forgot), restaurants in the area, fun things to do and her name and phone number (again, in case we forgot) with any questions.
I am so lucky to have found her because I love that only they, other than our family, has ever stayed in our lake house. I would never have my friends visit without us, it would ruin it’s perfectly balanced aura and vibe … as my spiritual advisor (her boyfriend) convinced me.
Our third and final home is in Aspen, Colorado. Oh and there’s that one in Italy. There are enough homes for everyone, but those dumb child neglect laws say that I have to “care for” my children which means we have to live in the same house. It’s OK, I actually like us all being together and that’s why I’m having everyone quarantine in our main suburban home, in their own wing.
The other moms don’t know about this account. Please don’t tell them. It’s our little secret. Shhhhh ...
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We've established that all couples are disgusting, and I'm not just talking about the pet names — I'm talking about the way that every time you and your sweetie exchange a tender kiss, that kiss contains 80 million bacteria (okay, I'm also talking about the pet names). Yeah, those are 80 million harmless bacteria, but the whole thing still feels a little gross. And that's not even touching on all the gross stuff that couples do that doesn't involve swapping any bacteria, but does involve being wildly foul —like sharing toothbrushes, pooping with the door open, or picking a stray piece of broccoli out of their teeth. It's enough to make you want to swear off dating and barricade yourself inside your house alone forever, right?
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Well, you might want to think it over a little more before you take a vow of celibacy and commit to a monogamous relationship with Seamless — because as foul as we are in pairs, we are inarguably a thousand times fouler on our own. After all, no matter how long you've been in a relationship, you still probably hope that the other person still finds you kinda sexy, or dignified, or at least doesn't think that you have actual chunks of garbage flowing through your veins.
But when you're alone, there's no one you have to impress by not peeing in the shower, or, you know, even taking an actual shower. And that is why when we're alone, we let loose —with these 19 thoroughly disgusting solo behaviors below that pretty much every woman does (but I'm sure you've never done any of them, fair maiden).
Especially when someone in your office mentions a "weird smell." I mean, it's never actually you that's the weird smell, but that fact seems to have little impact on one's overall crotch stank paranoia levels.
Soap down the pits and crotch, hit your roots with some dry shampoo, and no one is the wiser (right? RIGHT??).
Raise your hand if you have ever suffered the instant karma of peeing in the shower, only to have the drain immediately become clogged, leaving you covered in soap, standing in pee water, and cursing the day you were born.
Bonus points if the hair strand is so long that it has managed to wedge itself into both your butt crack and vulva. Double bonus points if you only realize the hair is stuck there after you start hooking up with someone, and desperately try to figure out a way to extract it without drawing too much attention.
Even though every other time you've done this, it's gotten torn to weird shreds and left your underwear a bloody mess, you still hold out hope that this time is going to be different. No one in the world is as blindly optimistic as a woman who has just made a pad out of toilet paper.
I mean, it does look kind of cool. But it's still probably not an acceptable topic to bring up at brunch. Same goes for poop.
It's so strange how when you dealt it they somehow don't smell as bad.
Everyone has a favorite, right? Mine's a Neutrogena microdermabrasion wand with the exfoliating pad ripped off. Sonicare toothbrushes can, however, be disappointing.
The feeling of relief that washes over your body after you successfully extract an ingrown pubic hair is probably life's greatest feeling that can be shared with absolutely no one else ever.
I have a single chin hair, which I once measured before plucking it. It was one inch long. Does admitting this on the internet mean that I'm no longer eligible for any political jobs?
Your skin always looks worse after, but you feel so satisfied.
And not just because you forgot to bring your phone in with you when you went to the bathroom (but also that).
You know, the piece of gum that's been knocked out of its wrapper by random purse crap? The kind that you'd act super disgusted about and make a big show of throwing out if someone else were there?
Admit it: when you are all alone, you caress your last-shaved-five-days-ago calves lovingly, as if they were a beloved house pet.
Dudes, you are not the only one who stick your hand down your pants in a non-sexual way while you're watching TV. This is your notice.
Sometimes just around the bra band area; sometimes all over the boobs themselves, if you've gotten really sweaty that day. Way more pleasurable than it should be.
The crack between your bed and the wall is not a trashcan.
Or a whole package of Oreos. Or most of a pizza. Then falling asleep next to the plate; then looking at the evidence in the morning with an air of shock and confusion, like you have no idea what happened. Who ate garlic knots in your bed last night? Probably aliens! It's the only reasonable answer! Or ghosts. Could have also been ghosts.
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