Sometimes being a mommy can make me feel like I am back in high school. There are just so many cliques at my daughter’s teeny-tiny school. There are what my husband refers to as the “Plastic Shorts Posse,” a group of moms who show up in their, well, their plastic shorts. I think they are meant to be workout shorts, and they’re not actually plastic, but from afar they kind of look like it and they definitely sound like it when you hear someone walking in them.

Then there are the “older” moms, who naturally seem to gravitate towards one another. They all drive Lexus SUVs and carry Louis Vuitton bags. Neither of which I am interested in. Personally, I traded in my enormous Land Rover a year ago for the more enviro-friendly Saab wagon. And Louis Vuitton? Makes me think of my grandmother. A nifty lady, but the fact that she is a grandmother has tainted my view of Louis.

Then there are the moms who are the loners. They don’t talk to anyone, they show up, get their kid and leave. Almost as if they were never there.

I tend to be a floater. That’s what I was in high school, and apparently, some things never change. I just like to talk to everyone, find out what they’re doing. But I don’t want to commit. Life is too short and I just want to leave my options open, you know? And some moms don’t have an issue with that and than others behave as if you have the plague when you don’t have a particular tribe.

Well, today I noticed that a mom who previously had been very pregnant was now no more. So I thought I’d ask her about her new baby. Don’t all moms love to talk about their kids? Let me tell you, talking to her was like taking candy from that proverbial baby. “Yes.” “No.” “It’s hard.” No inflection, no particular tone, just… simple words. Ugh. I finally said, “Congratulations,” and turned on my heels to get away from her. It was that weird. Is she shy? Tired? Not a friendly person by nature? Not that she really struck me initially as a person who I would have anything in common with, other than both of us being women with a kid at the same school. I just thought, what is the harm in striking up a meaningless conversation? I was so sure that motherhood was going to be a common bond I would instantly have with other women, other mothers. I couldn’t wait to be a part of the club. But again, I’m finding it’s just like high school. You have to commit to a club to be a member of the club.

At least I have my new Apple iPhone to keep me company.

And her.