When we moved to Mississippi, we ended up only a few short miles away from one of my closest college friends, Lizzie. My children worship her. To my children, Lizzie is The Cool Mom- she's tall, thin, blonde and beautiful.

After carpooling with Lizzie and her children for several days, it was my turn to pick up the kids from school.

I heard Aubrey, my 5-year-old, chattering away to her teacher as she skipped to the car, "I love Miss Lizzie so much!"

Her teacher opened the car door and Aubrey cried, "OH NO! Not YOU, Momma! I want Miss Lizzie!"

"Sorry to disappoint, get in and buckle up."

Later that week I got tied up at the pediatrician's office with Sadie, my 1-year-old, and once again Lizzie saved the day by picking my 3-year-old up from preschool. As soon as I left the doctor's office I went to get Emma, who happened to be dressed as Little Bo Peep because it was Nursery Rhyme Day at school.

Emma slammed her backpack into the floorboard of the car and attempted to climb in her car seat with the ruffles and taffeta of her princess dress sticking up all over the place, and getting caught on the toes of her boots.

"Momma, you was supposed to take wonger!" She crossed her arms across her chest and avoided eye contact with me.

I wasn't threatened by their new found love and admiration for Lizzie for several reasons. Firstly, because they have yet to meet her patchouli-wearing alter ego, Free Range Organic Granola Mom. After a few meals of brown rice, steamed vegetables and ground flax seed, they'd probably start to miss me. And secondly, because for a while, her kids loved me that way too.

I began to worry about my position on the mommy foodchain last week. Lizzie's baby was sick and she mentioned as she dropped Aubrey off after school that she was headed to the doctor's office.

"Leave the other two here," I insisted.

"I want to go to Miss Jones' house," Lizzie's 7-year-old, Elizabeth said.

I was temporarily stunned. It was one thing to play second fiddle to Lizzie with my own children, but I was not willing to take the number three spot on the mommy food chain.

"What's wrong with my house, huh?" I asked Elizabeth.

"Nothing," she said grinning. "Miss Jones just has really good snacks."

I bristled. I wasn't going down without a fight.

"Good snacks like hot chocolate, Cheetos, and chips? That sort of thing?"

Elizabeth nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Get out of the car."

My cruise director alter ego rose to the occasion as I dug out an old $10 video game. It plugs into your television and features classic games like Pole Position, Mrs. Pac Man, and Galaga. Lizzie's son, John Heston, looked at me with love and admiration in his eyes as I plugged the video game in and handed him the joystick.

I ran to the kitchen to make hot chocolate and called the kids into the kitchen. As I poured out John's second helping of Cheetos (they were at least "all natural," for whatever that's worth) he exclaimed in his raspy little boy voice, "This is just like a birthday party!"

I mentally patted myself on the back, but I knew I still had work to do.

"Come on, finish your snacks and let's go play video games some more."

By this point we had acquired a couple of extra neighborhood children, who were apparently alerted by their inner junk food monitors that there was a party next door.

The girls all went into Aubrey and Emma's bedroom to play dress up and I helped the two boys get the video game setup again.

I sat down at my computer to check my e-mail while the boys began racing cars.

The little boy next door asked John, "Do you have a video game like this?"

"No," he said sadly. "We just have a Wii."

"Yeah, me too," the little boy moped.

I pumped my fist in the air as I accepted my landslide victory as the Coolest Mom on the Block.

(Robin O'Bryant is a former Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com)