You'll never see me at these meetings.
I have kids, a husband, a dog, and a mean case of OCD. Do you understand how many times I need to vacuum the carpet in a very specific pattern before I can even think about functioning for the rest of the day? Oh, and the homework. SO.MUCH.HOMEWORK. All the obvious aside, I don't like pants or people.
I will never carry a "Mommy" card.
I don't do play dates.
By law, I'm only entitled to like my own children. (Some days they really try me, though.) I am not, however, obligated to like your children. Last year, my son had beef with a kid at his school so I attended his class picnic to scope out the kid who had caused us a year of grief. Ten minutes into my recon, Billy the Bully took a spill and it made me happier than I'd like to admit.
I will never be invited to (another) pottery night by the other Moms.
You know that whole thing where you get together with other Moms, sip wine, and paint ugly ceramics? I mean, I tried once. But silly me, I thought BYOB meant Bring Your Own Bong. I was wrong.
I'll never have a soccer Mom haircut.
I think this goes without saying. Unless you have this haircut, in which case, you look great. :)
I won't participate in the annual bake sale.
On that note, you should just thank me. (Food poisoning isn't fun. I should know, as I've given it to myself several times.) Apparently, my rock candy contribution didn't gel well with the parents either.
Last, but not least, I don't participate in fundraisers.
I'm not pimping any kid of mine door to door to sell $20 tubs of cookie dough. No apologies. I will, however, be more than happy to just write the school a check and call it good.