Volunteer Vampires

I have three kids ages 10 and under, which means I've been to three back-to-school potlucks since school started six weeks ago. For each potluck, I received a colorful printed invitation in the mail. I also got three reminder e-mails from the volunteer parents (coincidentally or not, all happened to be moms) organizing the events. My husband got them, too. We got hounded about whether we were coming because the volunteers needed to know how many folding chairs to set up. We got e-mails telling us what to bring according to the first letter of our last name. For the most recent event, the volunteer mom flagged me down as I was rushing from school to work. She wanted to confirm -- a week before the potluck -- exactly what side dish I was bringing.

When I got the cute invitations, I smiled. When I got the first e-mail, I thought: wow, this is organization. By the end I felt like shouting: THIS IS NOT A FORMAL SITDOWN DINNER AT THE WHITE HOUSE! IT IS AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL POTLUCK! IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN! EASY! CASUAL!

I read every word of Perfect Madness, Judith Warner's classic analysis of American moms gone haywire in pursuit of parenting perfection. And I accept that women are naturally competitive. We all want to be the finest moms we can be. So, high standards among moms can be normal -- even healthy -- especially when it comes to keeping children safe and raising them to be the best little people they can be in life.

But when organizing a school get-together becomes a competitive sport, when you see a mom staying up all night to plan a five-year-old's birthday party, when someone feels guilty for not making homemade cookies for the school bake sale -- there is something out of whack, not just in her but in our society overall, that we push moms until we feel like a failure when we don't pull off a perfect...potluck.

I count on other moms to keep me sane -- not to drive me to greater depths of insanity. The moms who help me most are the ones who remind me to slack off occasionally, to take care of myself, that no one will care if I show up with takeout pizza instead of three-hour-prep homemade lasagna. What's hardest about this potluck nuttiness is that I've known these particular moms for years. They are wonderful friends and parents whom I respect and care about. Maybe it's my turn to remind them that none of us needs to be perfect in order to be a good parent.

What's your take on volunteer madness? Do you have a favorite volunteers-gone-wild tale? What volunteer skeletons rattle in your closet? What's it going to take for American moms to become sane again?

By Leslie Morgan Steiner |  October 19, 2007; 7:30 AM ET  | Category:  Free-for-All
Previous: Looking Across Cultures for Good Family Models | Next: The Perfect Man?

Name:

Comments: