Tuesday, October 30, 2012

that kind of mother (Part 2).

I had every right to fear that skating party.  At 5:15, 15 minutes before I was to pick Millie up, I got a phone call.

Millie?  Is that you?
Mom...  i don't know where (deep breathing)....I can't (swallowing tears)... I don't know where anyone is?

And with that it was established that Millie was still at Classic Skate.  What?

Stay there.  Stay by a worker.  Don't move.  I'm coming now.

I threw everyone in the car, Ellis and cousin Ella, while phoning birthday mom.

Me: Where are you?
B-Mom: Just pulling into the driveway.
Me: Millie just called.  She is still at Classic Skate.
B-Mom: Millie is is still at Classic Skate?????
Me.  Millie is still at Classic Skate.
B-Mom: I'm turning around.  I'll go get her.
Me: No.  I will go get her.  Take care of your birthday kids.

And with that we were off.  I sped, and I prayed, and I had Ellis pray.  Don't move Millie.  Don't go into the parking lot.  Don't talk to strangers.  Don't go to the bathroom.  Don't take candy...... And it went on and on as I thought of all scenarios.

Every what if.

And there was traffic.  Lots of traffic.

By the time we pulled up, it had been 45 minutes that my 7 year old had been alone.

We ran in and there she was.  Sitting on the floor.  In front of the ticket window.  Jaw down to her chin.  Eyes a bit swollen.  Not looking up, slow to move.

And we went through everything.  What happened?  What have you been doing?  Who did you talk to?  Are you okay?  Are you okay?  Are you okay?

She was okay, and during the 30 minute return trip, she talked about how much fun she had before the leaving.

I returned her to the party.  It was over. Not officially.  But over in terms of the invitation time.  And  I took her back.  Because she deserved cake.  And ice cream.  And a party bag.  And love.  And recognition. 

The mom was mortified.  But not enough.  Because other than a hug, she spent the rest of the time on the phone, telling other people what happened, instead of talking to me.  Talking to my daughter.  Getting through this.  And I had spent an entire afternoon bursting into tears.

They had miscounted.  1 girl was dropped off by her mother, and took Millie's place in the car count.

So yes. I am that kind of mother.  A mother with 11 years experience chaperoning high schoolers.  Taking other people's children to far fetched places and I would have double checked.  And had I left a child I would have looked them in the eye.  Given love, and attention, and made that child feel good.  Really good.

Any correlation with sequins?  I'm finding myself hypothesizing.  I don't want to make a judgement based on looks...

but perhaps I should.

Friday, October 26, 2012

that kind of mother (Part 1).

I just dropped Millie off. At a skate party. She's never been skating. What kind of a mother am I to have never taken her 7 year old skating?

I don't know.

And as we drove up and saw the swarm of girls, not one did Millie know. And all of a sudden she refused to exit the vehicle. And I stood outside. by myself. wearing corderoy pants old enough to have lost their corderoy, and a baggy blue $5.00 turtleneck sweater that is brilliant at collecting those balls of wool. With a haircut that has not been trimmed by a professional in over a year, pulled back to attempt a semi-professional look that only works when viewing it via a webcam. Self-cut bangs that hang wrong, glasses down to the tip of my nose.

Standing by myself. Staring at not only this group of young girls, but their mothers, all perfectly couffed, make-uped, matching outfits that seemed to contain as many sequins as those of their girls. And they were perfection, glimmering in the shine of their Escolades.

Millie finally joined me, hiding behind my back, and I sent her off to interact with a tribe unlike my own.

Got in my car, returned to the mess that is home. Feeling overly inadequate and full of skating party fear.