Gingerbread houses and motherhood

I am waiting for the express bus to Manhattan after spending the morning getting busy with Angelo and the other Moms in his Pre-K class decorating gingerbread houses. My grumbling stomach is reminding me I only had a mug of coffee for breakfast, and now lunch is at least an hour away. (Do I still have some canned soup stashed away?)

I am slowly beginning to see the demands of parent participation in school activities like today, and although I didn’t have difficulty swinging the morning off, I am wondering about next Monday when it’s the class holiday party.

I tried to wiggle out of today’s activity just to see if Angelo would let me, but he was almost close to tears begging me to promise I would be there. And while not all the moms were there, I didn’t want to have to feel guilty later, knowing how the other kids made do with “substitute” moms because theirs couldn’t make it. As someone who always had Mom and Dad watching every performance and attending every parent activity in school back then, I felt it was my turn to be on the parent side now that I had a boy of my own. It would’ve been nice to have had Alan there, too, but the truth of the matter is, he would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb in that all-Mom crowd. They will have their own father-and-son days. (Maybe I’ll manage to get him to attend the Christmas party, too, next Monday.)

It was just a little funny how Angelo was egging me on to leave for work when we started cleaning up — as if to tell me “Mom, I don’t need you anymore…”

(The bus finally arrived!!)

It was one of those days I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.. and I’m glad I didn’t.

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