Take, for example, the dinner I made the other night. It wasn't a quick, easy one (I do plenty of those) but actually took time, planning, and for heaven's sake I was really excited about my meal.
My husband liked it. I liked it. No, I loved it. It was really good. And I freely admit we've made some really bad ones. Here's one of those bad ones:
If you can't tell (how could you not?), that's supposed to be grilled pizza.
So, complaining about the above dinner is completely acceptable. I did it too. But, complaining over my time-induced and really good meatball dinner....not acceptable. Where are the thank you's?
One kid got out of the dinner all together, and I overheard him say to his sister on the way out, "I get to eat dinner at my friend's house." And a snicker followed. I mean, come on! You would have thought he was getting out of an hour of torture to be free from pain and misery. But, no. He was just getting out of dinner.
Then there's the time my son asked what exactly it is that I do all day: "Like, mom, do you just like teach a few lessons and then just like come home and rest?" Yep, son. I just teach a few kids and then come home and sleep all day. And, I added, I eat chocolate....on the couch....whilst watching movies. Like all day. Bwahahaha.
Geez, son.
But, there are those rare times when the kids seem to notice the work that parent's put into daily life to help their monsters, I mean children, thrive. For example, when putting away laundry the other day, my youngest daughter said to me: "Thanks, mom, for putting away my clothes!"
Wait, what? I swept her off her feet, hugged her, told her she was my favorite and could have any sweets she wanted! OK, I didn't really do that, but I secretly wanted to. Instead, I just smiled and said, "You're welcome," and explained how much I appreciated her thanks.
My oldest turned thirteen this year. I wanted to do something that I knew she'd love, and I knew she loved the band One Direction.
You have to understand how unfamiliar I am with the boy band obsession. I never got into New Kids or Backstreet Boys (shame, I know). My first concert was Amy Grant followed by Hootie and the Blowfish and there just wasn't much in between.
But, my kid loves the band, so I bought a ticket for her and a ticket for her friend and we road tripped it to Kansas City a few weeks ago.
I was subjected to One Direction talk and song for four straight hours. Along with the headache, too many cups of Starbucks, and "The Story of my Life..." lyrics running through my head, I entered our hotel feeling something like this:
But, the girls were excited. Like, so excited. I can't adequately describe the amount of exhileration oozing from the girls while they were getting ready for their big night. Singing, laughing, picture taking, and just a *little* bit of shrieking. I, on the other hand, took off my shoes, pulled the sheets over my head and put in my head phones. Ahh....Amy Grant.
Kidding. Really, I just needed ten minutes of muffled sound. I listened to nothing. Just needed the headphones to muffle the sound for a few.
Reinvigorated by my ten minute headphone time, I threw on a pair of shorts and tennis shoes and declared myself ready for the big night.
Like a Pro, I found a parking space for only thirteen bucks. Like a novice, I didn't pay any attention to how far the parking spot was from the venue.
And since I didn't have an actual ticket for the concert, my plan was to hang out in the "Parent's Lounge." Yes, folks, this is an actual thing. I had no idea what to expect at said Parents Lounge, but I figured it couldn't be all that bad. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to a few hours of quiet with a good book and my iPad. I packed up my purse with things to keep me busy and we headed toward the venue.
So, the first thing I noticed whilst walking with many young girls and their moms (other than parking attendants, I literally didn't see a male for a good hour) was the fact that I was dressed, um, not at all like the other moms. Fancy tank tops, skirts, jewlery, high heels....I totally missed the memo that must have been attached to the ticket that explained to newbies like me that moms actually dress up for these sorts of things. I, on the other hand, looked like I was about to go for a run.
Whatever.
The second thing I noticed was how far our thirteen dollar parking spot actually was from the venue. It was a twenty-five minute walk far. About half way there, I heard a parking attendant call out: "Hey lady in the purple running shorts!"
Seriously? Head's turned as if to say, "Who is wearing running shorts to a One Direction concert?" Yes, thanks, parking attendant. That would be me.
"They aren't gonna let you bring that purse into the concert."
"Oh, I'm not actually going to the concert. I'm going to the....Parent's Lounge."
"The Parent Lounge?" He totally laughed out loud. "What is that?"
After trying to convince me that he was gonna see me in the parking lot again if I tried to get in with my purse, I thanked him for his help and kept walking, comfortably, I might add, thanks to my running shoes. He called out as I walked away, "I'm gonna see you back this way purple shorts!"
Uh-huh.
Once I got up to the venue, I encountered a very impatient security guard. I kind of felt empathetic toward the security guard until she started with the purse too: "Ma'am, you can't go into the venue with that purse." Drenched with sweat, I started to explain....again....that I'm not actually going into the venue, I'm going into the....Parent's Lounge...
"What's that?"
Seriously? I started to wonder if I somehow made up the Parent's Lounge. Like, did I dream that there was a way for me to not attend the concert but just sit quietly and read so as to avoid the screeches coming from hundreds of thousands of girls? Was that a dream?
She wouldn't let me past her, so I looked at the girls and looked ahead at the swarm that was filing into the venue. I gave them a hug (maybe that would have been better accepted if I was in heels?? Probably not.), gave them some firm directions (perhaps that wouldn't have received an exaggerated sigh if I could just get the band boy's names straight?? I think not.), and told them to have a blast.
So, I started the twenty-five minute walk back to the car. And that's when I met high-heeled lady. She never told me her name, but we were apparently kindred spirits since we both had to walk back to the same parking lot because we both had purses that we couldn't bring into the venue.
She talked the entire way back to the car. I mean the entire way back to the car. I totally would have joined in....if I could. I tried, but I couldn't' even squeeze in a "Tell me your name?" High heeled lady went on about concerts, One Direction, her girls and their drive from Nebraska, her favorite "1D" song (what?!), and the fact that her feet hurt (hehe).
And then I heard it: "There you are purple shorts girl! I knew you'd be back this way! I told you so." And...he laughed again. And...I kinda wanted to punch him in the face. Instead I just smiled and waved because any words I attempted would have interrupt high heeled lady's words.
Once we made it back to the car, I was literally drenched. I thought I'd kill some time and cool off in the car before the walk back to the venue, but I noticed high heeled lady waiting for me to walk back with her. For the love.
Empty handed, I walked back whilst listening to high heeled lady talk about their plans for after the concert. Then she asked me a question. She asked me a question, folks! "What are your plans after the concert?"
"Oh, bed?" That's exactly what I said. And then it was awkward for a minute. But only a minute because she kept talking.
And again: "Purple shorts girl! You don't have a purse! You'll get in just fine now." I was close enough this time to actually punch him in the face but again...just waved and smiled.
My high heeled friend asked me where my seats were once we got up to the venue.
"Oh, I'm not going into the concert. Just to the...Parent's Lounge."
"What's that?"
"I'm not entirely sure." That's exactly what I said. But it wasn't awkward because she departed. I gladly departed and then began, kind of desperately, searching for the "Lounge."
I found the Parent's Lounge. And I was excited that it actually existed, until I went inside. The place was packed, country music was blaring, and there was not one seat available. Every table was full and my food option was popcorn. But that wasn't the first thing I noticed. The first thing I noticed were all the purses.
Purses, books, computers, iPads...purses...everywhere. It was a cruel joke. To this day I have no idea how they all got in with their purses! I expected the parking attendant to be there and shout out: "Gotcha purple shorts girl!" I cooled off for a few minutes while devising a plan, left the parent's lounge and went to the ticket booth. I mean, why not? At this point, screeching girls and One Direction were better than what awaited in the parent's lounge....with no purse.
I texted my daughter to give her the exciting news. I knew she'd love it. Her own mother....choosing One Direction on her own accord (she didn't need to know the whole story). And this is the exact text I received back:
"Mom, seriously. You can't do that! This is just not something that thirty year old ladies do by themselves!"
I wasn't immediately angry with her because she called me a thirty-year old. But then I imagined myself in the venue...by myself....not knowing the songs...with ear plugs in my ears to keep from permanent damage from the screeching. Probably not my best idea. And besides that reality, I realized I had no credit card. Because that would be in my purse.
So, I headed back to the car...again...was ready and waiting for my parking attendant friend who yelled out, "You sure got in your cardio for the day!" (if only he knew how many times I imagined punching him), waved at him and made my way back to the parent's lounge - with my purse... and a polka-dot blanket.
I can guarantee you that I was the only one the Parent's Lounge sitting on the floor on a polka dot blanket. I called the lounge quits when a guy came in barefoot and I overheard him say this: "Yea, I got myself some kind of fungal infection and the shoes just make it worse. Ya know?"
So, I parked myself in the grass outside the stadium and for two and a half hours listened to girls shriek. It was great. Lemme tell ya.
The same exhilaration the girls had getting ready for the concert followed them out of the concert....times twenty. They had the time of their lives. I got a second wind knowing the night was almost over (oh, the naivety) and was excited with them - until we hit the tunnel.
So, since I walked through the tunnel to get to and from my car five times already that night, I should have anticipated the nightmare the tunnel would be post concert with thousands of highly excited girls. We stood inching our way through the tunnel to the parking lot for almost thirty minutes. Just at the point I thought I might die of heat and claustrophobia, this happened:
So, I kind of imagined myself yelling, "Stop! Everyone!! Just be quiet and walk forward! And for the love, stop singing One Direction songs!" And then I imagined all their sweaty bodies turning around and attacking me. So, I stayed quiet and took deep breaths. And...it smelled. Like really bad. So, I took small breaths and imagined a big open space with a lot of breeze and Amy Grant music. I looked at my daughter and said, "This is awful!." And she said, "This is awesome!" Yep.
By the time we made it to the car, I was done. I was over it. It took everything in me to put that One direction CD in and pretend to be excited with my daughter who was loving everything about life.
"Mom, I don't even know how we're going to sleep tonight!" Dying. I was dying.
"And mom, can you turn down the music? Thank you so much for all of this! This was the best night ever! Thank you!"
And there it was. I didn't want to sweep her up like I did my youngest; in fact, I kind of wanted to break that CD, but man did she put a smile back on my face.
You're welcome kid. Now, remember to say that the next time I cook dinner.
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