The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

The Perfect Mom

I really thought I had things pretty handled on the last day of school this year.

I had purchased cups for Ben to take to his end-of-the-year party.

The night before we’d found Gray’s missing library book they wouldn’t let him graduate second grade without returning.

I bought end-of-the-year gift cards for important teachers and even remembered to put them in cards and send them to school with the kids this year (it’s the thought that counts, right? So if I thought about doing it before I still get credit, don’t I?).

I got up early and made the rice krispie treats we were assigned to bring to Jonas’s end-of-the-year party/performance/parents-fawning-over-their-kids-singing-out-of-tune thing. (You apparently can’t make them the night before because they get stale really quick. And then you’re the parent who ruined the party with food that looks delicious and tastes horrible. I’m pretty sure that’s what Hitler’s mom did that made him end up like that.)

I scheduled my showings and client meetings around all of the pick-ups and drop-offs and parties and hoopla.

I even showed up to Jonas’s thing at 10:20AM this year and waited in line outside his Montessori with all the other parents to be let in at 10:30AM so we could take our seats and begin right at 10:35AM, instead of misunderstanding the directions of ‘Doors will open at 10:30AM’ and showing up at 10:45AM right in the middle of their final song like I did last year.

I’m just saying I thought I had my shit together. I may have even been patting myself on the back a little bit. It’s possible when I walked through the door of Jonas’s whatever-the-hell-his-last-day-of-school-thing-was I was looking around at the other parents and thinking smugly to myself, “How many of these moms work full-time, have three active kids at three different schools and still managed to get all their work AND kid stuff done for the end of the year? I bet none of them. They’re all stay at home moms or they bought their treats they had to bring. I sort of deserve a medal. Do they make a Nobel Prize for Mother of the Year? Cause they should just give it to me. That biatch over there is wearing a bedazzled yoga pants outfit. She is not a professional. Just crown me Mom/Realtor Queen. I’m that awesome.”

Then I took my seat and gazed out at the sea of preschool children arranged carefully on risers waiting to begin their performance and realized every single last child in the school was wearing some obvious combination of Red, White and Blue. That is… every single child but mine. Mine was wearing the bright orange polo shirt I’d had to literally bribe him with leftover marshmallows to wear because I thought it looked nice. Jonas stuck out like a bright orange sore thumb and effectively ruined the teachers’ attempt to create a picturesque presentation. Apparently I’d missed that note on the letter they sent home.

I hunched down in my seat, but Jonas spotted me immediately and shouted, “Hi, MOM!”

The bedazzled yoga pants mom and three of her friends turned around and gave me dirty looks.

You can have the crown back.

Comments are closed.

Comments Closed