I swore I’d never tell anyone about this…

To use the language of the youth, last night was a “mommy fail”.

It was my daughters first dance recital and it stated at 5:15 on a muterf’n Wednesday. 5:15 is an almost impossible time to be anywhere. It’s just got home from work time and everybody in the family is being an asshole cause they are hungry time.

So I rush home and roll in at 4:40, it’s a mad dash, I clean the kids best I can, shove food in their faces while yelling -EAT PLEASE. She is to wear tie dye on top and black on the bottom. Oops mommy didn’t do laundry so we are wearing 2 sizes too small faded black pants for this evening’s performance.

So at 5 we call it and we get in the car and try to go a place none of us has been to before. We fight about where it is then sorta find it and go in the back door and walk all over the place then find the gym. Whew. We made it.

“Mommy my pants are wet … and it smells like pee”. Shit.

We go to the bathroom and clean up and attempt to dry the pants with paper towels and a sub par hand dryer. So now its 2 sizes too small pee pee pants for tonight’s performance.

We come out and find her group. I look around and every kid looks like they spent the day getting ready, hair is bunned, outfits on point, tutus ruffled and my kid looks kinda homeless. Sigh.

So her group performs last so we sit wait and clap for 50 mins in a gym that I think had the heat on. The two year old starts to kick up a fuss but we manage.

I also started to notice some parents had brought flowers for their kids. I thought “hmm that would have been cute – oh well, next time.”

So it’s her turn and I hold my breath as I wasn’t sure she would even go out on the stage but she does, and she does beautifully. I swell with pride over my little paper bag princess.

At the end I go meet her as she gets off the stage and I go over and give her a hug and start to say what a good job she did and she looks at me and bursts into tears.

Then she goes full. nuclear. meltdown.

Why? Because we didn’t get her flowers. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t pause to grasp this teaching moment. I feel every other parents judgement and stares. I drag both my screaming kids to the car buckle them up and stand at the back of the car to swear for a bit.

I tell her in the car that she should feel accomplished and proud of herself for learning to dance and being brave enough to show the world. I may have even said flowers don’t mean anything and they just die. I tell her if someone gets you flowers you should feel lucky but it shouldn’t be the reason you do things. She just cried the whole time.

We get home. I’m furious, she’s exhausted and hungry and needs a bath. We take care of all her needs and I start calming down a bit.

I figure we’ll have a heart to heart about being gracious when I can figure out the right words so I tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.

She says sleepily “Mom are you really never going to sign me up for dance ever again?”
Me: ” we’ll see, mommy was pretty angry when she said that so we’ll talk tomorrow”
Her: “I won’t cry at my next recital I promise”
Me: “well that would be nice”
Her: “ya, I’ll just remind you to pick up the flowers on the way there”



I can’t eat this it’s too yucky

Picture it: the year is 2035. My young adult daughter will have just moved out and will invite me over for dinner. I will graciously accept.

She will come up with a menu and go out and buy the ingredients. She will spend time preparing the food and will be excited to have me over as a guest. She will tidy her place and wait for me.

I will arrive with a bottle of wine and some bread. We will chit chat while she plates the food and then I’ll settle into the seat she’s chosen for me at her table. Maybe some conversation music is playing.

She will set the plate down in front of me and smile proudly. I will look at the plate then look at her, look at the plate then look at her.*

Me: Ew
Her: What!?!
Me: I can’t eat this it’s too yucky.
Her: Mom, don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t even tried it!
Me: It looks disgusting.
Her: It’s one of your favorites, just take a bite!
Me: No. If I eat that I’m afraid my tongue might die.

She’ll get frustrated then mad. I’ll continue to refuse it. She’ll yell at me and I will run away, tell her she’s mean then go in the bathroom and pee my pants.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

*I won’t do any of that. I will eat it all while marveling at this beautiful creature I made out of lemons, blueberry bagels and artichoke hearts.

I am concerned…

I think I may have sleep apnea because I snort myself awake on my commuter train almost everyday. It sucks the worst when I open my eyes and people are giggling – don’t they care that I almost just died?

If I do have sitting up apnea does that mean I have lying down apnea? Do you have to sleep in a sleep lab to determine if you have it? Do they watch you sleep? I find that creepy. What if I, you know … toot? Oh my god I’d die.

I can’t bring that oxygenator or transducer or whatever it’s called machine on the train though anyway because I like to sit in the quiet zone. Imagine I sit down and pull out that machine? Hungh, whoosh, hungh, woosh. It’d be a lynch mob. These commuters are very unforgiving.

I bet they see me coming though, just like I see them. These strangers I spend over 300 hours with a year. I bet they call me “snores a lot” or “Snorty McSnorerson” or worse.