Laurie Nigro
Confessions of a socially oblivious mom

I think I owe the world an apology. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. I didn’t mean to laugh at all the comments and ignore all the rules. I legitimately thought it was a joke. I had no idea that there are actual mom social constructs that I am expected to follow.

I learned this week that my daughter is oblivious to all that is going on around her. I was not even the least bit surprised.  She takes after me. It wasn’t until this year that I learned that the movie “Bad Moms” was based on actual real-life personas and not some made-up, worst-case scenario we all fear may come true, but believe it really can’t (so we can still sleep at night.) And I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry.

So let me put it all out there. To anyone that has the misfortune to see me at a back-to-school night, sporting event, drama production, supermarket, or drives by my house when I’m mowing the lawn, what you see is what you get. I am too damn tired to play pretend. I am all about keeping it real. And my real isn’t pretty.

If I’m mowing the lawn, I am likely wearing an outfit that looks like my toddler chose it and I wore it just to keep her from feeling rejected. Except, I don’t have a toddler. There is no one to blame but myself. Mowing the lawn is like going on my own personal vision quest, without the peyote and with no hope of finding a higher purpose. The only purpose is to NOT look like we’ve abandoned our house. I won’t look cute or put together or even human. I will look like I’ve escaped from a sweat lodge and Richard Simmons was the gatekeeper. You should just keep driving.

When I’m at the supermarket, I’m probably not going to see you. I avoid all eye contact when I am food-shopping. Because first, no one wants to be food-shopping. Second, there’s a good bet that I’m not even supposed to be there, that there is a child somewhere, wondering why I’m late to pick them up AGAIN. But that child also likes to eat so I’m trying to grab what I need in the 11 minutes allotted and that leaves me little time to chat with anyone. Like a commando, I’m just trying to get in and get out. And also avoid the awkward conversation about the tampons and Halloween candy in my otherwise-empty shopping cart.

At the school drama production, my type-A personality will take over the whole damn place. I will be selling tickets, lining up candy bars and doling out programs before I even meet the director. She didn’t know she needed me, but I knew she needed me. If I step on someone’s toes, just tell me to step back. Because I do not live to collect sticky dollar bills from small children coming up for their third pack of skittles. I do, however, have an uncontrollable urge to organize all the things and if I don’t see someone else doing that, I actually cannot stop myself. I promise there is no other motive. I don’t want to be Queen Drama Mom. I don’t even want to know Queen Drama Mom. I am just listening to the voices inside my head.

As for all the other stuff, I don’t care about fancy clothes or fancy cars. I can’t even remember the last time I walked into a clothing store that wasn’t secondhand or sporting a tremendous red and white bullseye. I often confuse Vera Bradley and Vera Wang. I drive the most generic mom-car you could possibly imagine and I bought it based solely on its reliability rating. If you look in the window, you will likely see what looks like a den for a homeless person because my children are slovenly. And they hate me.

On the flip side of that, I also don’t care if you DO care about the fancy clothes and fancy cars. If you love spending your money on things with names on them, more power to you. Listen, I have an unhealthy obsession with personal care products and have a minimum of five backup deodorants on hand, at all times, so I am certainly not one to judge. Also, if my kids smell, you know it’s not my fault.

I am socially unacceptable in many other ways, too. I’m loud all the time. I regularly forget that I need to color my hair (or brush it) and the roots look like road maps to old age, trailing across my scalp. I sometimes wear my slippers to school functions. And not always by accident. I rarely know who celebrities are, by name or sight, and I have never seen a single episode of any television show with the name “housewife” in it. And I write it all down and publish it, every week.

I also don’t know other people’s social structure — who falls where and what my role should be. And I am not going to find out. Basically, I’ll be nice to anyone until they are not nice to me (or my family). So far, that’s been working out.

So if you’re dropping your kid off at school and you’ve just spilled your coffee down the front of your shirt while trying to grab the dirty sweatshirt that was stuck to your child’s foot, I am mentally giving you a hug and an “I feel you, girl. I feel you.”

There are not enough hours in the day for me to drink all the coffee, make all the lunches, or worry about to whom I spoke while waiting in the pick-up line and if I shouldn’t have told her that I still own a pair of Crocs.

I live in my own happy little bubble where mistakes are made and forgiveness is essential, where pants get too tight from Halloween through New Year’s and wine and potato chips are an acceptable dinner, where insanity is the new normal and laughter is everything.

It’s a good place to be.

Sometimes, that place has actual meals, made with actual real ingredients. But most often, we eat nachos. I like to tell myself they cover all the food groups and are an acceptable meal, so don’t ruin it for me. You can make them in about four minutes so they are a staple in our house. It’s faster if you have a microwave, but an oven or toaster gets the job done, too.

Nachos Grande

Organic Corn Chips (they have huge bags at Costco and BJ’s for about 2/3 the price of the supermarket)
Shredded cheddar or whatever other cheese you prefer
Chopped, cooked (usually leftover) meat of your choice (optional)
Beans (optional)
Salsa
Plain Greek yogurt or sour cream
Guacamole

Put the chips on a plate if microwaving or a cookie sheet if using the oven. Cover with as much cheese as you’d like. Add meat and/or beans.  Heat until the cheese melts. Remove from oven/microwave and add dollops of yogurt/sour cream, guac, and salsa. (Those are the veggies so go ahead and pat yourself on the back.)

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Laurie Nigro, is the mother of two biological children and one husband. She also takes care of a menagerie of animals that leaves throw-up around for her to step in in the middle of the night. Laurie’s passionate about frugal, natural living, which is a nice way of saying she’s a kombucha-brewing, incense-burning, foodie freak who tries really hard not to spend money on crap made by child laborers. You can hear her rant about her muse (aka husband) and other things that have no bearing on your life, in this space each Sunday.

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