Suzy Q

There I was, standing in the schoolyard, waiting for Alex to be dismissed, like any normal day. I struck up a conversation with this woman, Anna, I had spoken to a few times before. She's the mom of a good school buddy of Alex's and, now that the weather's getting warmer, he'd been bugging me to set up a play date with the boy. Anna seemed nice enough from my dealings with her, if a bit standoffish, so I figured I'd go over and see if she maybe wanted to meet in the park or something in the upcoming weeks.

I was just getting around to suggesting a playdate (Is it just me who hates this term?) when our childrens' class came out the school door. There was Alex. And next to him in line, as usual, was Anna's son, Luke. The boys waved to us. She and I smiled at each other and I said, "You know they're going to ask when we're going to the park together." They always did. That had been the ritual for the last couple of months. And, of course, they did.

Anna and I stood there discussing what day the next week would be nice enough and work best for both of us to hit the park with the kids after school. The boys jumped around excited talking over each other about bringing their bikes and already asking if we could have pizza after the park. And I though, Cool, another decent, nice mom to talk to. And then it happened. I spotted HER. Worse, she spotted Alex, and started craning her neck, eyes hungrily searching the crowded schoolyard for me. DAMN.


Suzy Q. You all know Suzy Q. She's a perfect size 4. She looks like she stepped out of an Anne Klein catalogue. She owns an impeccably kept two story home you’d hardly know housed a child if not for all the FAO Schwartz toys and tiny designer outfits kept in the one small room in the corner, along with the small bed, padded floor, and the fishbowl. She's on the PTA, emails the teacher every Friday to keep abreast of her son’s progress, and holds a chair on the community board. She's got a little demon special snowflake your son's age. He had an exotic nanny from birth until he started school full time, at which point the kindly woman magically vanished. Now he goes to an afterschool program, karate, swim class, two soccer leagues, music class, the YMCA, junior yoga, computer class, and dance. He has a Spanish speaking babysitter on the weekends to give him a head start on his linguistic skills as well. She’s there to pick up her son and walk him to his latest activity, chess club. And she probably spent more time applying her lipstick today than she has with her child all week.

For awhile your boys were playmates. While the nanny was around anyway. But since starting school, the woman has used you to the point you’ve started to feel like a roll of toilet paper. First it was little things. Could you pick up her son from school and watch him for an hour? Could you watch him because afterschool was cancelled? Could you get him because he was sick at school? Could you walk him to an activity? But, before long, you’d notice an extra child at your dinner table. Suddenly he’d be there on their day off. Once you ended up bringing him to his father’s office with your son and infant daughter in tow because she was stuck at work and had promised him he’d see his dad. A promise YOU ended up fulfilling because you felt for the kid. And you also noticed his behavior started to change. Without the nanny who’d always cared for him he began to whine and scream and demand things. He’d hit your son. He’d hit your infant daughter. And when you told Suzy Q.? “Boys will be boys.” The final straw came when she asked if you’d like to arrange a playdate (that word again) with the kids at 10AM. And ended up dropping her son off at your house at 9AM–and leaving. And going off the grid. All day. Until 6PM. Then showing up, smile on her face, saying she was “busy with important stuff at work and figured it would be ok because you’re a SAHM and would be home with the kids all day anyway so it wouldn’t be a big deal for you”. And you stood there, sputtering, explaining that it was not, in fact, “ok”, and that it was totally unacceptable and asking how she could do this to someone. And she cocked her head like a bird looking at a worm, frowned a deep frown, and asked what the big deal was. This after a day of her child beating on yours, crying for her, eating three meals at your house, and you sincerely wondering (and occasionally hoping) she was dead. She just wasn’t going to get it. So you shoved her child at her, told her to leave, and swore off contact with her since.

Almost a year has passed since you had actual contact with Suzy Q. outside of her occasionally tracking you down on the schoolyard. And you try to avoid that at all costs. Despite that, she continues to email you every other week, has requested you friend her on Facebook, asks other people what you’re doing, and keeps calling you and leaving messages. Straight to voicemail. The latest few have been inquiring as to whether you’d like Alex to join chess club after school with her son. “It’s right after school”, she says. “So they can walk there together right after getting out.” This is Suzy Q. for, “YOU can pick them up and walk them.” (And probably pick them up after chess as well.) And here she is noticing Alex and looking for you. If this was high school you’d take off your hoop earrings, tie your hair in a ponytail, and it would be ON. But it’s not. It’s the schoolyard of your son’s first grade class. So what’s the only logical thing to do?


I grab Anna’s arm. “Anna, I’m sorry. You’re going to think I’m crazy. And I probably am. But PLEASE hide me. Just until we get out of the schoolyard.”

Anna looks at me funny, like I might be in trouble with the cops, or be seeing pink elephants. She looks around, making sure she is not, in fact, about to aid a felon. “Okay...can I ask why?”

“Well,” I begin, “there is this woman over there (nudging with my chin, she looks). DON’T LOOK! Anyway, I HATE this woman. Her kid and Alex used to be friends, but the kid’s a brat and the woman uses people. It’s a big mess. Anyway, I tried to confront her, but she doesn’t take a hint. And now she totally stalks me. She acts fake nice to get what she wants and I can’t stand her. I really tried but I feel like I’m just going to punch her or something one day. She’s a complete nutcase.”

At this point we’ve moved to the gate of the schoolyard. I’ve avoided Suzy Q., thanks to Anna. I detach myself from her arm. She sort of smirks and looks me up and down, cocks an eyebrow and hits me with this: “A complete nutcase, huh?”

I feel my face redden. “Yeah…well…I never said I wasn’t. But I’m a nutcase in a different way. And I’m honest about it.”

We both laughed. She said she completely understood and had dealt with fake, user type people herself. She said she didn’t hold it against me. But it’s been about three weeks since that incident. Alex still asks me when he and Luke are going to play in the park together. It hasn’t happened yet. I notice that I never spot Anna in the schoolyard anymore, except occasionally the back of her head as she’s hurrying off with Luke through the gate without a backward glance. I don’t crane my neck to look for her though. I don’t track Luke’s movements through the schoolyard. I have a funny feeling some things are better left alone. Poor Alex. How does one explain to your child there will be no playdate because sometimes Mommy is too much a freak for other people to handle?

Damn you Suzy Q.