Those of you who know me….brace yourselves. Grab a seat, and maybe a strong drink. But don’t drink while you’re reading this, because you might just snarf from sheer disbelief. And no one likes to snarf. Those of you who don’t know me, just grab a strong seat.
Let me begin by telling you I am NOT, I repeat, I am NOT a joiner. I like to watch other people join, and I like to be invited to join, but I DON’T like to join. A few months ago I was asked to be the Program Enrichment Co-chair for my four-year-old son’s preschool. That’s the invited to join part, but I found myself considering their proposal. To quote Sandra Boyton, “Should I stay, should I go…?” In the end I decided to take the position. When else in my life will I have the opportunity to be such a big part of my child’s life. After all, I only have about ten more years (if I’m lucky) before he hates me, right?
What does this position mean? It means my co-chair and I throw THE BIGGEST party of the year for the preschool – The Annual Halloween Party. This party is in two days and counting. We have planned, delegated, shopped, begged for donations, bought our costumes, and said a few prayers in the hopes that we haven’t forgotten anything important.
Last night I found myself covered in orange from the 100 newly painted paper bowls, tearing apart old crocheted sweaters so we would have black yarn for our “spider webs”, researching recipes for the cinnamon rolls I’m making for the Saturday morning set-up crew, and handwriting labels in paint no-less for our activity tables. I stopped, looked around and smiled because I realized that I was having fun doing something I NEVER thought possible. If ten years ago someone came up to me in a New York City bar and whispered in my ear just before my last shot on the pool table, “You’re going to be painting bowls for your son’s Halloween party, and you’re going to love it”, I would have glared at them till they walked away, and laughed it off with my friends over one more Vodka/Cranberry.
Being a full-time Mom really gives me the luxury to every day become what I want. Somedays that’s a Pulitzer prize writer, somedays it’s a Rockette, and somedays it’s a gym trainer. But somedays it’s a Mom.