Last autumn, I volunteered to bring the pumpkin pie to the First Grade Thanksgiving Feast. The pies needed to be cut into uniform pieces to serve four classes worth of students. Since most store-bought pumpkin pies contain cloves – which the Cat is allergic to – I was going to make homemade pumpkin bars. They cut easily into squares (easier to serve than pie slices!) and would no doubt adhere to the school’s “Wellness Policy” because I knew I wasn’t going to use additional sugar, and I use real vanilla, no artificial flavors, and no funky preservatives. It seemed like a winning situation.

But I made a tragic mistake: Instead of just showing up with 13,284 pumpkin bars, I emailed the woman in charge of the volunteers to let her know of my plans. She had said to buy “four Costco pies and cut into bite-sized pieces.” I figured the mention of Costco was an attempt to let people relax about not having to bake themselves, so didn’t think there would be any reason to object to someone who wanted to take on that responsibility. So, when I volunteered, I said I’d happily bake bars.

Her response was, “The committee decided to serve Costco's pumpkin pies,” but that I was “welcome to bake a special pie for [the Cat.]”

In Michelle Lamar and Molly Wendland’s The White Trash Mom Handbook they refer to such committees as “The Muffia,” a term they lovingly lifted from I Don’t Know How She Does It. Indeed, this particular lady is leader of our school’s Muffia, but unlike White Trash Mom’s assertion that the Muffia wishes to condemn those who aren’t perfect, this particular “you must only bring store-bought goods,” was a twist on that. It is almost as though this particular woman wanted to make sure that I didn’t get credit for being capable enough to bake enough pumpkin bars for around eighty First Graders. (And, in this cruel twist, this meant that my son would be singled out as not having what the other kids had – and I had to foot the bill for all that nasty artificial crud, the leftovers which were returned to me, of course.)

Later, a fellow non-Muffia-Mom (who White Trash Mom would simply call a Fellow White Trash Mom - but I view this particular friend more as a Hippie-Free-Spirit more than straight from the trailer park) ran into the aforementioned woman shouting out directions to her volunteers. My very strong, unflappable friend whispered nervously, “I am SCARED of her!” Indeed, upon speaking to other moms, I learned there was no “committee” that decided on the Costco pies. The “committee” was just Muffy.

I received The White Trash Mom Handbook via the Parent Bloggers Network. It is written by the same gal behind the blog of the same name, plus with “inside-information” from her former-Muffia Friend “Tacky Princess.”

While I don’t listen to “Country and Western” or quite feel comfortable wearing tie-dye, I got some great tips from this book. Part of the White Mom Trash Philosophy (thankfully spelled out quickly at the start of the book) involves not worrying so much about what other people think. Indeed, I am very guilty of that: I am an approval-seeker, which means those “Muffia” folks definitely have a victim in me. (I have plenty of juicy anecdotes like the pumpkin pie one.) But if I learn to “take a chill pill,” I should be able to accomplish much more than if I am trying to live up to an unattainable standard of perfection.

Indeed, White Trash Mom talks about how the perfect people must have help. And in my neighborhood, they do: nannies, housekeepers, personal chefs, and personal trainers. I do not. And yes, I am sure there are plenty of folks in our school who don’t either, but the most visible folks are also the most pampered.

Being “White Trash” is not about bucking all expectations and rebelling loudly, because as is mentioned many times in the book, your kids will suffer. On one hand, being “White Trash” is “still holding on to the flicker of light [you] had before having kids,” but on the other hand, “you need to be involved in some manner because the school needs you,” so “think of yourself last and put your child first.”

“White Trash Mom” and “Tacky Princess” give a run-down on school volunteer opportunities with their unique cost-benefit analysis (ROI: Return on Investment.) They mention ways short-cuts can be taken without anyone getting truly hurt. It is essentially all about balance: not trying to be Superwoman, but also not being a complete slacker.

I admit that I found a few contradictions in the book, but that is because there are many contradictions in real life. For example, the book disapproves of the Muffia’s over-scheduling of kids’ activities, particularly sports activities where the child is unlikely to ever play professionally or even in college or high school. But one of the pieces of advice (that I cheered!) was to sign up kids for activities outside of school. That way, if a bully at school is making life miserable, the kid has friends from outside of school.

Indeed, my kids’ activities are primarily with kids who don’t attend their school. (And yes, the Cat’s soccer team is a “club sport,” where he had to try out. But I think everyone made the team. Shhhh! Don’t tell him!). My own tumultuous social life in elementary school was balanced by the many hours I spent dancing with kids who didn’t know my in-school social status. Having that outlet physically and socially was valuable for me, and I hope it is for my kids as well.

But I do agree with White Trash Mom that it isn’t productive for the kids to be pushed in multiple sports if it is all about the parents’ benefit instead of for the kids’ enjoyment. Knowing when it is about the kid and when it is about the parent is hard.

The White Trash Mom Handbook begins with a dose of social philosophy and psychology, and then continues on to actual “tips” to hopefully decrease stress while still supporting teachers in the “unwritten curriculum.” It is about keeping up with expectations and appearances in a way that benefit, instead of hurt, the kids. Tips about handling work, cleaning, and cooking are all in here. I’ll happily contribute to The White Trash Mom Cookbook (yes, I see a companion book in the future) because while the recipes in that section indeed look yummy and easy, I have a bunch of easy recipes that don’t rely so heavily on the processed foods. Being healthy need not be a Muffia-trait.

Even if you don’t like the term “White Trash Mom” – put away your biases or I’ll accuse you of being part of the Muffia -- The White Trash Mom Handbook is worth a read. (pick it up at Amazon) It challenges us to be true to ourselves and our instincts while still accepting responsibility for our kids and household. The book is humorous, practical, and surprisingly thought-provoking. It is going to take some effort to wean me from my wanting-to-please-everyone ways, but at least I know there are others struggling with the same tendencies.