It was Mom’s Day at my boys’ nursery school today. I survived, but I’m exhausted. I am officially one of the old moms. When my 12 year old was in preschool, I lived in the city. I was definitely one of the young moms, a fact I only realized when accomplished women who had finally taken a break from their fabulous lives to have children, pointed it out to me. I didn’t know how good I had it.
First, I had to sit crisscross applesauce with two 4 year olds on my lap. We learned about the weather of the day, the letters that start our names, sang all the old favorites, including an extra-long version of Old McDonald and pretended we were on a bear hunt. I may never walk again. My knees, as it turns out, are arthritic. One of the kids brought her grandmother. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you find yourself giving a 75 year old the evil eye because she received an actual chair instead of a mat.
Next, we painted … if you can call it that. The brushes were really big and the kids kept mixing the blue and the yellow together, so we just ended up with big green splotches. I was less than thrilled with both my creations. Then, we worked on snowmen. We upgraded to chairs for this, but it was only a small upgrade as the chairs were really, really, really small. At this point, Shane told me I should stay to work on my snowman while he went and played. I did. My back is killing me.
After arts and crafts came playtime. This was the highlight of the day because it was at this moment I realized one of the other moms, who will henceforth be known as Sent From God, brought coffee for everyone. Legos and magnets are so much easier to handle with a cup of jo in the other hand. Still, I started to zone out and daydream about wine. As I get older, my thoughts are wandering more, usually right to something I can put in my mouth. I only came to when Charlie started to fly an airplane around the room in a way that made all young, attentive moms look at me for intervention.
Then, we did quiet reading. This was pretty boring as I’ve read all those books, like 200 times. Plus, my eyes are going so my arms got tired trying to hold them far enough away to actually see them. Then came washing hands for snack. Snack … yay! Charlie decided to pull down his pants and take a leak in the tiny toilet right next to the little well-behaved girls who were obediently taking care of personal hygiene. I couldn’t even yell at him from outside the door because I now know boys point where they look, and this would’ve resulted in a shower on all those cute tights and Mary Janes. I know what those moms were thinking because it is what I used to think. Thank God I have girls.
Snack was pretty much a let down because the kids got munchkins and didn’t offer me any. The mom next to me got one from her son, who is clearly a much nicer child than my sons, who devoured their snack without considering their poor starving mother.
Then it was over. I need a nap and a bottle of Chardonnay. Someone please remind me why we need Mom’s Days when the whole point of nursery school is to get some alone time!