The Best Night EVER v. Such A Waste Of Time!

"You've read the instructions on how it's made, talked to people who claim to have made it, even seen videos of people making it, but you can't shake the feeling that when it comes to toast the toaster does all the work. "

Recently, I made the decision to pop a few beta blockers, bundle up the eldest munchkin, and venture off to a school sponsored rollerskating night at a local venue. It was a school night, Mama was having yet another one of her now-infamous meltdowns, and there was a raging snowstorm at hand. As I thoroughly enjoy playing Wonder Woman on occasion, I bravely bid adieu to my 'Ol Man and the miniature munchkin and off we went.

My dear King Van is painfully similar to Yours Truly. Hand-eye coordination, balance and well... let's face it - general motor skills are not on the top 10 (or even present at all) list of our talents. But damn it, the kid wanted to skate, I was going to let him skate or die trying (Model Mother Alert! Ha!). After watching him hug the wall for dear life while dragging his wheeled feet somewhere behind him, I finally suggested we change him back into his shoes and loiter by the skeeball machines. It took a bit of convincing as he was clearly hesitant to leave the scene of his all-girl fan club, but somewhere deep down inside, I think he was thankful for the rescue.

All the little poorly maintained games needed tokens. *sigh* I exchanged $5 expecting a prompt ticker-tape parade celebrating my rampant generosity. When I came back down to earth, he was already off at the races throwing that rock-solid plastic ball mercilessly at the plexiglass covering. Jesus, how was I expecting this was going to be any better than his wall-hugging antics? Well - at least the ground wasn't moving out from beneath his feet. It was a noble start. Noticing he was scoring less than one ticket per 5 or so tokens, I took a few of my own and went off to the creepy ticket-spewing machine in the corner in an attempt to salvage the prize return that would transpire at the end of the evening. Hot damn! Back-to-back-to-back jackpot! Too bad I was in some two-bit skate arena and not at the casinos! While soaking up the praise of every pre-pubescent boy between the ages of about 4 and 9 at my fabulous fortune, I glanced over to find a gaggle of girls surrounding my son. Oh lord. They found him.

The other trait we have in common? Total goddamned doormats. One particularly bold (and freakishly tall, but sporting such a delectably sassy afro and a boa that somehow I had to forgive her rudeness) gal had ROLLED right in front of him and was taking over all his turns on the machine. He puts in the money, she plays. Awesome. He was looking so helplessly victimized that I pulled him aside, cashed in another $5, tucked all the tokens in the pocket of his hoodie and sent him to the opposite end of the game room. Shit. There they all go, following him like a caravan of pint-sized gold diggers! Hell, this time, 2 or 3 of them even brought their siblings along... lining up around him with their sticky little paws out for HIS tokens! When it became evident he was slacking in his customer service, some of the wee brats even went straight for the loot in the pocket! That was, shockingly enough, the first time I bothered looking around at the sea of people in the popsicle stand. Christ. Children........ oodles and oodles of children, but aside from myself and the principal, only one other parent could be found. You mean to tell me I was the only sucker who didn't just drop their kid off for those two hours!?!?!??!? *shakes fists angrily at the unresponsive drop ceiling above*

In the end, I remained calm (meaning I was sober AND evaded jail time), Van had a blast (and predictably enough, spent all his tickets on glittery lip balm for those double-x-chromosome nightmares), and the night was finally over. The drama was over. Silly Annie, the drama is NEVER over. It only remained at bay long enough to make it from the door of the building to the car. "Mama, this was the absolute best night EVER!!! The BEST day of my life!!!!!!" I couldn't help but smile. Mostly as I was decidedly taking all the credit for being the unspoken BEST MOM EVER. Yeah. No. In the next breath: "I just wish it hadn't been such a waste of my time" *choke*cough*sputter* WHAT!?!?!??!?

Yup. It seems his Kindergarten.... yes.... KINDERGARTEN teacher had the "brilliant" notion to allow a bunch of Ritalin-Dosed monsters to prioritize their days with the disclaimer that we, as parents, should fully expect their grades to drop this quarter. More Awesomeness. Suddenly, everything - including the best night of the kid's life - is a monumental waste of his bloody time. In circumstances where this Godzilla Mom is quite RARELY speechless, I was downright floored. Ah yes - I forgot to mention - while we were out having this rip-roaring great time/waste of time, Papa was home finishing VAN'S school project (which I might add he did a stunningly girly job on ripe with glittery swirls!) just so he could go enjoy his little skate night. Yeah... the next words out of Van's saucy mouth: "I just wish I had been able to stay home so I could finish my project". If I hadn't been driving through blizzard conditions, I would have blasted my way into that backseat and spewed the caliber of tirade that would make Rick Flair blush! But once again - Mama remained calm. "Please promise me on your relatively young life you won't repeat that to your father."

Every day seems to offer such new and exciting possibilities, no? We do the best we can, and even better than that on rare occasion. In circumstances such as these, I simply nod, smile, and lovingly recall these moments for the next time I break into a box of wine with a butter knife because the world clearly hates my freedom and the packaging perforations were merely placed there to taunt me in my panicked desperation.

4 comments:

  1. You fared a lot better than I would have.

    I woulda shanked somebody.

    ReplyDelete
  2. BWAHAHAHAH!!!! Believe me, I was tempted... but a big part of that goes back to my elaborate plans of throwing such a massive pity party that I'm never put in such a position again! When I told my 'Ol Man about what transpired he replied "Jesus, Annie, next time I'm going to take him so this shit doesn't happen!" Mission accomplished! *Smile*

    ReplyDelete
  3. What? no mention of the inappropriate nasty nasty music being played for little ones?

    Like Rihanna?

    And how about the sticky sticky scotch tape carpeting?

    Went once, not wanting to go again anytime soon.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh Darling, I had ALMOST blocked out those memories! ALMOST.... The fact that they serve food on top of it all - simply too much to stomach! Figuratively and OH SO literally! haha!

    I'm really banking on having made such a supreme ass of myself (not to mention blowing my last $20 on those little hustlers) that I shall never set foot in that place again!

    May I just tell you I was NOT manufactured with the proper patience and/or social skills clearly required for motherhood?

    ReplyDelete

Kitty

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Best Night EVER v. Such A Waste Of Time!

"You've read the instructions on how it's made, talked to people who claim to have made it, even seen videos of people making it, but you can't shake the feeling that when it comes to toast the toaster does all the work. "

Recently, I made the decision to pop a few beta blockers, bundle up the eldest munchkin, and venture off to a school sponsored rollerskating night at a local venue. It was a school night, Mama was having yet another one of her now-infamous meltdowns, and there was a raging snowstorm at hand. As I thoroughly enjoy playing Wonder Woman on occasion, I bravely bid adieu to my 'Ol Man and the miniature munchkin and off we went.

My dear King Van is painfully similar to Yours Truly. Hand-eye coordination, balance and well... let's face it - general motor skills are not on the top 10 (or even present at all) list of our talents. But damn it, the kid wanted to skate, I was going to let him skate or die trying (Model Mother Alert! Ha!). After watching him hug the wall for dear life while dragging his wheeled feet somewhere behind him, I finally suggested we change him back into his shoes and loiter by the skeeball machines. It took a bit of convincing as he was clearly hesitant to leave the scene of his all-girl fan club, but somewhere deep down inside, I think he was thankful for the rescue.

All the little poorly maintained games needed tokens. *sigh* I exchanged $5 expecting a prompt ticker-tape parade celebrating my rampant generosity. When I came back down to earth, he was already off at the races throwing that rock-solid plastic ball mercilessly at the plexiglass covering. Jesus, how was I expecting this was going to be any better than his wall-hugging antics? Well - at least the ground wasn't moving out from beneath his feet. It was a noble start. Noticing he was scoring less than one ticket per 5 or so tokens, I took a few of my own and went off to the creepy ticket-spewing machine in the corner in an attempt to salvage the prize return that would transpire at the end of the evening. Hot damn! Back-to-back-to-back jackpot! Too bad I was in some two-bit skate arena and not at the casinos! While soaking up the praise of every pre-pubescent boy between the ages of about 4 and 9 at my fabulous fortune, I glanced over to find a gaggle of girls surrounding my son. Oh lord. They found him.

The other trait we have in common? Total goddamned doormats. One particularly bold (and freakishly tall, but sporting such a delectably sassy afro and a boa that somehow I had to forgive her rudeness) gal had ROLLED right in front of him and was taking over all his turns on the machine. He puts in the money, she plays. Awesome. He was looking so helplessly victimized that I pulled him aside, cashed in another $5, tucked all the tokens in the pocket of his hoodie and sent him to the opposite end of the game room. Shit. There they all go, following him like a caravan of pint-sized gold diggers! Hell, this time, 2 or 3 of them even brought their siblings along... lining up around him with their sticky little paws out for HIS tokens! When it became evident he was slacking in his customer service, some of the wee brats even went straight for the loot in the pocket! That was, shockingly enough, the first time I bothered looking around at the sea of people in the popsicle stand. Christ. Children........ oodles and oodles of children, but aside from myself and the principal, only one other parent could be found. You mean to tell me I was the only sucker who didn't just drop their kid off for those two hours!?!?!??!? *shakes fists angrily at the unresponsive drop ceiling above*

In the end, I remained calm (meaning I was sober AND evaded jail time), Van had a blast (and predictably enough, spent all his tickets on glittery lip balm for those double-x-chromosome nightmares), and the night was finally over. The drama was over. Silly Annie, the drama is NEVER over. It only remained at bay long enough to make it from the door of the building to the car. "Mama, this was the absolute best night EVER!!! The BEST day of my life!!!!!!" I couldn't help but smile. Mostly as I was decidedly taking all the credit for being the unspoken BEST MOM EVER. Yeah. No. In the next breath: "I just wish it hadn't been such a waste of my time" *choke*cough*sputter* WHAT!?!?!??!?

Yup. It seems his Kindergarten.... yes.... KINDERGARTEN teacher had the "brilliant" notion to allow a bunch of Ritalin-Dosed monsters to prioritize their days with the disclaimer that we, as parents, should fully expect their grades to drop this quarter. More Awesomeness. Suddenly, everything - including the best night of the kid's life - is a monumental waste of his bloody time. In circumstances where this Godzilla Mom is quite RARELY speechless, I was downright floored. Ah yes - I forgot to mention - while we were out having this rip-roaring great time/waste of time, Papa was home finishing VAN'S school project (which I might add he did a stunningly girly job on ripe with glittery swirls!) just so he could go enjoy his little skate night. Yeah... the next words out of Van's saucy mouth: "I just wish I had been able to stay home so I could finish my project". If I hadn't been driving through blizzard conditions, I would have blasted my way into that backseat and spewed the caliber of tirade that would make Rick Flair blush! But once again - Mama remained calm. "Please promise me on your relatively young life you won't repeat that to your father."

Every day seems to offer such new and exciting possibilities, no? We do the best we can, and even better than that on rare occasion. In circumstances such as these, I simply nod, smile, and lovingly recall these moments for the next time I break into a box of wine with a butter knife because the world clearly hates my freedom and the packaging perforations were merely placed there to taunt me in my panicked desperation.

4 comments:

  1. You fared a lot better than I would have.

    I woulda shanked somebody.

    ReplyDelete
  2. BWAHAHAHAH!!!! Believe me, I was tempted... but a big part of that goes back to my elaborate plans of throwing such a massive pity party that I'm never put in such a position again! When I told my 'Ol Man about what transpired he replied "Jesus, Annie, next time I'm going to take him so this shit doesn't happen!" Mission accomplished! *Smile*

    ReplyDelete
  3. What? no mention of the inappropriate nasty nasty music being played for little ones?

    Like Rihanna?

    And how about the sticky sticky scotch tape carpeting?

    Went once, not wanting to go again anytime soon.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh Darling, I had ALMOST blocked out those memories! ALMOST.... The fact that they serve food on top of it all - simply too much to stomach! Figuratively and OH SO literally! haha!

    I'm really banking on having made such a supreme ass of myself (not to mention blowing my last $20 on those little hustlers) that I shall never set foot in that place again!

    May I just tell you I was NOT manufactured with the proper patience and/or social skills clearly required for motherhood?

    ReplyDelete