This past week I volunteered at school in my 2nd grader’s Art Masters class.
I’ve been a little absent in the classroom this year. Not by choice. It just hasn’t been an option for me with my husband out of town and the demands of work and my three other kids. I get itchy each time the room moms email. “We really really really need your help!”
Apparently they’d had a hard time rounding up volunteers for this Art Masters session. Filming for my show was tentatively scheduled for that day. My 15 year old had finals. I wasn’t sure when my husband was coming home. So… I was out.
But then the husband arrived. The filming was postponed and I was already out of the office and on the road picking up my 15 yr old from her finals a good hour before the Art Masters session. I knew how happy my son would be to see me in his classroom and another email had gone out just that morning, urging parents to just show up if they could.
I could.
My son was delighted when we arrived. The kind of big uncensored smile “That’s my MOM!” proud that I know probably won’t last forever. I’ve got another year of it, maybe two if I’m lucky.
I savored.
I really didn’t care that the other moms kinda gave me the once over. I wasn’t interested in the gossip.
But my 15 yr old was. She was scandalized. Outraged.
“Mom! Did you hear them? They were picking apart the other kid’s scissor skills! They thought only their kids know how to use scissors properly. Who do those {redacted} think they are? My little brother can use a scissor better than any of their stupid annoying brats! What is wrong with these people? OMG!!! If this is what it’s like I am never having kids!”
What a tough lesson about the dark side of motherhood. I wanted to hug her. She’s right of course. But she’s also wrong. It’s so easy to get caught up in that, but it’s just as easy to ignore it.
It’s just the sort of thing that would have bothered me at one point. When she was in 2nd grade. I’m pretty sure I would have been pissed off and annoyed and spent a semester stewing over stray comments like these.
Age has apparently mellowed me. It seems so silly to even hear that this is what they were whispering about. It didn’t bother me at all, which was interesting to note.
I enjoyed myself. I went there for my son. Who (for the record) can cut circles around those other kids.
But more importantly, he’s a nice kid. A good friend. A great son.
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