I'm very up front with the fact that I am a much better teacher than parent. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm a good parent, but I often have to say things like..."You understand that the fact that I make you buy hot lunch every day doesn't mean I love you less, right?" or "I'm sorry I forgot that you were going on a field trip today, please tell Mrs. So-and-so that I'll get her $10.00 right away...and please say thanks for spotting you the money...again." So it is usually the summer time when I begin to feel recovered from the burden of being the absentee-parent and get recharged to make a full turn around before the next year starts...but Carson's 3rd grade teacher, in all her perfecty-perfection (and here folks I am not exaggerating...she is perfect...our whole family cried when Carson was done with 3rd grade - well not Chris, he doesn't cry much...and not Kait, she was too focused on her almost-highschool-ness, but anyway, Carson and I...ok, just me. But she's great, just sayin.) Anyway, she's so wonderful that she decided to host a summertime swimming party with her newly-graduated little-uns.
This was perfect, except for the fact that even though Carson has been at the same school for 3 years, I still don't know the kids in his class or their parents...seriously, my focus is on other people's children during the school day - I don't have time to figure out what my own kids are doing. So imagine my embarrassment when I introduced myself to another adult at the pool party by saying, "Hi, I'm Carson's mom, whose parent are you?" and she replied, "Oh, I'm actually the babysitter." Of course you are. First of all, you look like your twelve...and if I was actually an involved parent I would have realized that you are not in the pick-up line every day.
Even more mortifying was that fact that every other parent seemed to know exactly who I was; they peppered me with lovely comments such as, "Oh Carson is just so great!" "Sam loves playing with Carson." "I'd love to get the boys together this summer." To which I replied "Uh, huh" "Carson loves Sam too." "Sure. Our number's in the directory." I'm not quite sure which one was the so-called Sam, but I'm sure he and Carson really do love each other, and the playdate? Well, if I get a phone call from a Mrs. So-and-so, I'll just make sure she drops Carson at our house, so that I don't have to pretend that I know where they live or who they are for that matter.
That's the blessing and curse of a small town... everyone knows your name, and if they don't exactly know your name, they generally know something about you...in yesterday's case I'm just glad it was that my kid is so stinkin awesome. I suppose it could've been worse, I could've gotten, "Oh, so you're Carson's mom," (just a side note, that my sister met her son's class on field trip and it took about 1/2 an hour for everyone to realize that she was with their group - I guess they thought she was some sort of weird child-stalker? We have a lot in common.) or even worse, "You still owe me $10.00 for that field trip last May." In the end, I made a few new friends. I have no idea who their kids actually are...they were all a blur in the watery recesses of the pool, but I met Lily's mom, and Jacob's mom, and of course someone's babysitter...I'm sure we'll get it sorted out at the next playdate.
That's all for now from a needs-to-invest-more-time-in-my-kids-lives
Small Town Girl