Something interesting happened when Rollie started school this year; I suddenly came to the realization that I am truly a mother. For the three years before he started, I could almost imagine that these two beings were pets, or little people come to visit, and that I was still remotely cool, that I could still hang on to the life i lived before they came along. Rollie starting school changed all that.
The first time it hit me was when I went to pick Rollie up on a Friday afternoon. I left Todd and Tiller in the van (we were on our way out of town) and went inside. The classroom was mayhem, with three-year-olds running every which way, wielding blocks and wearing costumes. A little blonde boy in a yellow t-shirt ran right up to me, his eyes scanning up me until coming to my face, and then he squinted while identifying my owner.
“Rooollie!!! You’re mom is here,” he said, with disgusted emphasis on the word “mom.”
Since then, i have had the realization over and over again. Next it was the wreath – The school is having a fall carnival for a fundraiser and all the parents are to take home a wreath and decorate it. The look of dismay must have been evident when I was handed my wreath.
“Decorate it how?” I said.
“Well, you could do a Christmas wreath, or an Easter wreath, or one woman is doing a Welcome Baby Wreath . . . There are just tons of options! Why, look at this fall wreath I just whipped up last night in a few minutes!”
I looked at the wreath. It looked like something out of a Pottery Barn catalog. As I walked out of the school, wreath in hand, it occurred to me that this is how it begins. This is how people with lives, people with CD collections, interesting friends, hobbies of their own choosing, and drinking problems, this is how they end up being my mother, who never turned in the UNICEF box that Halloween in Fairport, NY, when I was seven or so.
They gave us the UNICEF box at Brooks Hill Elementary. It was a cardboard box, about half the size of a Happy Meal box, and we were to take it around with us when we went trick-or-treating, collecting donations. All of us thought it was a total drag to have to carry the stupid box around, because of course people gave us change, not bills, so it became heavy, and who wants to be dragged down by the donations, when they could be dragged down with candy? I guess I wanted to save the world, though, because by the time I got home, my UNICEF box was full. I gave it to my Mom. The moms were supposed to count the money and then turn the boxes in the next day at school. Sure enough, the next day, Mom forgot to turn in the box. Evidently, she forgot about it so many days in a row, that I finally also forgot about it.
Years later, Mom admitted to me that she used the UNICEF funds for milk money for Lisa and I for years. I have always thought this was one of the funniest stories ever, but now I see also that it is a sad story, the story of a young mom forced to deal with stuff that she doesn’t want to deal with. It was the result of schools pushing these fundraisers and charities and activities on mothers who really have no interest in them. Mom just wanted to drop the kids off at school, and then go home and watch her soaps. She wanted to have snacks with us when we came home, not compete to see who could raise the most money for UNICEF. And when procrastination presents itself, it is so easy to just give in to it. Really, Mom was so subversive; Fuck the elementary school and the do-gooders who ruined our Halloween with their Goddamn UNICEF boxes! Go Mom!
Later, though, Mom was beaten down by the system – she became a Brownie leader, she picked up other people’s kids from school, she even taught as a substitute teacher. She was never particularly interested in these things, or good at them. But she was a great Mom, and we always appreciated her making the attempt at the do-gooder Mom role.
Now that I am a Mom, I appreciate why she didn’t make the UNICEF attempt. I just want to be a good Mom to my kids, and I don’t really see what that has to do with me being a Holly Hobby wreath-maker, or President of the fucking PTA.
I ended up making the wreath. It is a Christmas wreath, with holly and ribbon, and pine boughs. It pales in comparison to the other wreaths hanging in the school hallway, but I made it. Friday at school, all parents received a flyer informing us of the next fundraiser. How many rolls of cookie dough can I sign you up for?
