Welcome back to the final week of the Housewives of School Gates. If you’re just joining us, be sure to check out last week’s Housewives of School Gates, where former 80’s chick, Mummy Buck, gave us an insight into five of the Mums she’s had the
misfortune pleasure of meeting over the years.
This week we’re back with her final five.
Welcome back Mummy Buck.
Thank you for having me back.
No problem. Mummy Buck. We’ve had a great response to last week’s article. Our Daily Grief readers have been emailing in their hundreds, with stories all relating to the Mums you described.
Sure, that’s the bond that ties us all. Let’s raise a glass to all the Mums who’ve suffered and the Mums currently suffering the same fate. I hope the remaining five will prove just as familiar.
Mummy Buck enlighten us. Who are the remaining five?
Okay, let’s get this started. First, we have, the Chameleon Mum.
This mum is everyone’s friend, watch my lips E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E-S friend. She never has a bad word to say about anyone. She’s just INCREDIBLY nice, so nice her voice, if I’m honest just flicks my bored switch on!
Ahhh Mummy Buck, she sounds a nice, friendly mum.
Exactly what she wants you to think. Friendly and forever smiling……really?! it renders me ever so slightly suspicious. Never bitching about anyone? what’s all that about?
This is not the mum you go to if you want to sound off about someone.
She’ll just be, ‘oh no she’s lovely’, ‘no, you’ve got that all wrong’, blah blah blah, leaving you feeling a total twat for bitching.
Is anybody really that nice? I question what the face is hiding if you catch my meaning.
She doesn’t fit into any ‘one’ clique (fuck knows there are loads to choose from). She prefers to flit back and forth, changing colour to suit the chick click she’s standing with.
No loyalty with this mum. She ‘likes’ EVERYONE. Not one to decline an invite. In fact, if I was a betting woman (that’s Daddy Bucks department) I’d put money on her accepting the invitation to the opening of a bloody envelope.
And before anybody writes in saying I’m wrong, these Mums are genuinely nice people who hide nothing. Read this….…..BULLSHIT.
I bet if you ask their partners about them, they’d probably wonder who you were talking about!
I’m very fortunate I don’t have to fork out for expensive gym memberships. I’m able to keep fit for free. I go running every morning.
That’s great. Do you get up early and go for a run?
Do I bollox. I spend the morning running, frantically from room to room searching for all the ‘stuff’ Dippy needs for school. The ‘stuff’ he couldn’t be arsed to get ready the night before.
Nothing gets my pulse racing quicker then Dippy judging how long it’s taking me to find his ‘stuff’, while he casually carries on checking his social media!
You’re not still looking for his PE Bag, are you?
Yep, its still missing.
However, as we all do, I try to find the positives in parenting. I see this as one of them. Keeping fit without the need to buy expensive Lycra can only be a good thing.
Bouncy Mum plans her day ahead. She walks her kids to school. Jogs home to enjoy a bowl of sawdust with a yummy topping of droppings, personally, muesli is not a favourite of mine.
Then its off to run those zero calories off en-route to the Gym, followed by a slap-up lunch fit for a rabbit. Occasionally when feeling naughty, devour a kit-kat finger.
Leading to an evening of kit-kat guilt, eased slightly with a large glass of wine, and maybe a Quality Street or two.
Sometimes, she’ll be jogging on the spot outside the classroom. God, it really sets off my motion sickness if I look at her for too long, so I like to play it safe. I stay in the car drinking coffee and snacking on a Mars bar to keep my energy levels up.
You’ll often see her chatting with the Lollipop person before making several lunges across the road to do nothing more than hold the bloody traffic up.
THE LAME MUM
Before we start jumping to conclusions here. This Mum walks just fine, normally straight past you, but walk she can. LAME stands for Look at Me Everyone.
You’ll usually find her stood in the middle of the playground leaving plenty of space for her appreciative squad members to surround her.
I swear if you look carefully enough you’ll see her head spinning like the girl in the exorcist. This allows her to keep her Hi-Viz eye on everyone.
She’s the one not listening when you speak. She’s distracted (head spinning) searching for squad members to talk at about recent playground issues.
Talks to you one week completely blanking you the next, and the next, and the next. Then taking you totally by surprise by talking at you as if you’re old friends.
She’s the one policing the playground. Wearing the all-important Hi-Viz jacket, I guess, just in case any stupid parent walks into her by mistake.
Then it’s off to address that old age important issue….……parents with no common sense.
I honestly don’t know where I would be today if it hadn’t been for LAME Mum and her words of advice on errrr, her…..erm…what was those words…….errr…erm….blimey erm………..sorry my mind went blank then!
And woe betide anyone thinking of parking their bike in the wrong bay. Its defiance like this which causes rants on social media. Squad members are always, poised online ready to tip-tap away with comments like ‘you go girl’, ‘yes this has got to stop’, ‘you truly are a remarkable woman’.
Rant complete, squad members arse licking complete and its back to normality without a second thought for playground issues.
Her kids are recognisable by their lunchboxes, usually black and boring consisting of bottled water, raw vegetables, sandwich in the shape of a bear’s head, lentil crisps, yoghurt (organic) and a yummy piece of cardboard with a smidgen of chocolate for decorative purposes only.
Fruit shoots, crisps, chocolate bar and cake are all banned. Basically, the contents of Dip-Jnrs lunch box are a no-no for this Mum.
The type whose children you dread coming over for a playdate. I’m always reminding Dip-Jnr Call of Duty is not the game I’ve hidden in the drawer, it is, in fact, our Housework rota list.
The stress of it all, especially when we get busted over why we have fizzy drinks. Bloody Waitrose man delivering them by mistake!
This mum has the teacher on redial. Homework is completed the day it comes home. School forms filled in and returned the next day. School trips paid. Open evening dates marked on the calendar. PTA Meetings attended. She’ll even bring the cakes, not want to miss an opportunity to improve her credibility.
Not the mummy you speak to if you’re having ‘problems’ with your kids. This mum won’t relate on any level. The best you’ll get is a sympathetic head tilt and the pity in her eyes.
Motherhood is a job. Conversations are always geared around how well Jonnie is doing. This mum is competitive. If she gets a sniff of anyone else’s kids doing well, Jonnie will be on lockdown making sure he is doing enough to keep him ahead of the rest.
The teacher’s on speed dial just in case there’s any confusion over homework.
Conversations are always one-sided and always grade related.
Her Jonnie is the kid doing the rounds upsetting all the other kids, telling them Father Christmas isn’t real. However, I’m not going to rant here about parents refusing to lie to their kids about FC. I’ll leave that for another day.
Playdates are limited as Jonnie is usually very, very busy with after-school clubs. Chess, violin, piano, Chinese, Maths and English take up the majority of his time. Always handy though, as if he gets stuck at some point in his future he can always practice his Chinese in the local takeaway, that would fox them eh!
I remember when Pippy started piano lessons. I was over the moon, my Pippy going all musical. She was a natural her highly paid teacher told me.
I had visions of her becoming the next Elton John, her highly paid teacher, repeatedly told me she was fab!
After a few weeks of settling in, I became to talk about her talent in the playground, how good she was. That was my downfall, sprouting about it.
Just as I started to dream the dream, she quit. Her piano days, my dream was over. It was laid to rest in the memory box alongside shortlived Ballet lessons, Tap Dance, Gym, Swimming, Rainbows to name but a few!
I can’t end this piece without a big shout out to all the dads who brave the school run.
If you’re anything like Daddy Buck, you’ll be nothing more than yourself. Most Dads never become involved in playground politics, I say most, as there’s always that ‘one’ who does.
A smile and friendly chit-chat, Daddy Buck doesn’t go in for lengthy questions. Mainly because he won’t be interested in the answers.
Most will be observers and if engaged in conversation, they will be simple with no hidden agenda.
And that’s it. There are plenty more Mums at the school gates. I would say these eleven are the main contributors to playground politics.
Very soon, I will be leaving them all behind. I will no doubt, have mixed feelings, sad that my youngest will be moving on and my ‘little school days’ are over. The other side, the sheer delight of leaving all the playground shite behind, hooray!