Today, I’m Gonna Parent Like It’s 1929!
It started off a good day.
Sun shining, breeze blowing, and I’m on time for once for dance class. The MOST IMPORTANT dance class for my 5 year old, Princess, because we all get to come in and watch. She was so happy to have Big Boy, Baby and me in her audience for once — even if it was just an ordinary class, and this was just a preschool introduction to dance at our city Recreation Centre. Did I mention that I had left in time to be a little early? Well, except my cell rang with an emergency phone call from Art Girl, who wouldn’t stop crying. You see, her legs were cold. Nothing more. Her legs were cold in her shorts, so she spent the morning bawling at her seat, and I had to calm her down.
Just on time, I finagled two kids to the last available spot in the very corner in the room. The other Parenta-razzis had brought every single relative within the local dialling area to watch their 4 year old jump in a hula-hoop with pointed toes. I swerved out of the way of some dude’s 8″ telephoto, past the kid who got pulled out of school so he could film sister with his own iPhone (exactly like Mom beside him was doing, ) and settled beside a guy with both video camera and a point and shoot, who spent down time from watching “Put your arms out reeeaaaallly straight!” to do editing on his touch screen. I spent the next 45 minutes vacillating between utter cuteness-induced giddiness, and trying to keep a 13 month old off the stacks of weighted bars beside the floor to ceiling mirror, all while hissing “Quiet!” to Big Boy so he wouldn’t end up ruining someone’s scene. Kinda good times.
Then: Race to the lobby of the kids’ school to collect them. Suddenly, a woman I am sure I have never seen before, stops me.
“You know every time I see you, (?!) you remind me of my Grandmother.” She starts. I’m wondering if it’s because Grandma’s far, far away, which is where I’d like to be.
“She said that the first 5 kids were hard, and then after the 6th, they just all took care of themselves.” I glanced nervously over at my eldest and smiled timidly, wondering if this was a veiled accusation of foisting the other kids’ upbringing onto her shoulders.
“Of course,” she continued, “that was a 100 years ago.”
Of course it was! Here, I was thinking that I was a relevant, contemporary, with-it Mama, but I guess when I called penicillin “emerging technology,” I gave myself away.
Now back home, I’m sitting waiting inpatiently for the kids to get home from the park, so I can go and run an errand, except Tall Girl is late because there are no numbers on her Justin Beiber watch, since it would get in the way of his “dreaminess.”
Don’t listen to me. I’m just having one of those Mommy days, where everyone else seems to be entering Mom-entrepreneur contests, and buying Franchises, and finishing their novels, and combing their hair. My biggest accomplishments as of late are figuring out new ways to hide leftovers with Club House Gravy Mix, and how tight I have to pull a ponytail so that it hides the fact that I need a shampoo.
But things will look up. Princess just invited me to Big Boy’s Birthday Party. He was born in November and it’s now June.
“We’re serving Rock Cakes,” she says and points at mounds of road crush left by the previous house owners. Sounds good. I hear that was a real delicacy about century or so ago.