Welcome to the (rural) jungle

I live in a small town.

Not the creepy, seedy, get-jumped-by-a-gang-of-methed-out-12-year-olds kind of small town.

A cute, quaint, homey, historic small town. And I love it. I really do.

Except for one thing... The Mommy Mafia.

Now, the Mommy Mafia does not resemble an actual crime syndicate in any obvious way. They don't talk in muffled, Italian accents. They don't (at least, to my knowledge) bring guns and cannolies with them. There have been no horse heads or toll booth shootouts.

BUT!!!

They will inevitably make you an offer you can't refuse.

Or shouldn't, at least.

Because refusing lands you firmly in the persona non grata category of the elementary school social ladder, which is a precarious place to be.

That is, unless you are like me, and you simply don't care.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not antisocial. I'm not a misanthrope... (well, maybe a little)

I just don't buy into all the drama social crap that goes on in the parenting world. It's nonsense. These women act like they're the ones still in high school, and it would be frustrating if it weren't exceedingly amusing to sit back and watch. There is something both fascinating and sad about a 40-something woman wearing hot pink nail polish and chunky highlights. It's just...wrong.

Even more wrong is that these same women tend to be the ones whose 12-year old daughters walk around in booty shorts and spaghetti-strap tank tops, acting like they're a 22-year old co-ed at Mardi Gras. But that's a whole other matter entirely. Shitty parenting and the sexualization of today's kids is a whole series of blog posts unto themselves.

But I digress...

The Mommy Mafia.

Don't let the picturesque small town fool you. These women mean business. They're just as vicious as the metropolitan socialite mothers, only rather than Bentleys, St. Barth's, and plastic surgery, it's pampered horses, gigantic $80k pickup trucks... and plastic surgery.

And that offer you can't refuse (or risk social peril)?

Taking an official position within the PTA.

Laugh, but I kid you not. Welcome to the seedy underbelly of elementary school.

You've been warned.