Thursday, June 29, 2006

We Are The Yorks

Look at this family:

Cute, right? Sweet, fun-loving, good people. Or so we would have you believe...

We are not vanilla. We are Bubble-Gum Explosion mixed with Rocky Road and Sour Grapes wrapped in Vanilla, and as yummy as we may look on the outside, after you take that first bite, you're not so sure.

This is why I hate meeting new people. We take time. Like a fungus, we need to grow on people. Sure, Shawn and Jax are fine (for now), but Ryan and I take some...understanding. I'm not saying we're losers, cause you know I personally think we rock, but others don't always see it that way right off the bat. Still don't grasp my meaning? Let me walk you through my day thus far, step by step:

Up at 6 (but you knew that already), worked in the yard, off to the Y.

Leave the Y and head to swim lessons (grrr), where Jax proceeds to spend his time chasing birds, until they finally find a meeting ground, which would happen to be on the ground, amidst a scattering of spilled goldfish. Boy and bird eat, as I try to recall symptoms of bird flu. Quickly grasp him away from infectious-disease-carrier, and coerce him to stay by me by handing over my water bottle. He drinks from it, then pours the remainder out, and begins splashing away in the puddle. Not such a big deal, I let it pass. UNTIL, he gets on all fours and starts licking it up with his tongue, at which point the other mother sitting near us (you know, the pregnant one smoking the cigarette), starts laughing at him. Ha ha. Aren't we cute, let's all laugh at the weirdos. Fine. Whatever.

Swim lessons end, we trek back out to the car and head on to our next destination: the neighborhood pool to join up with some new friends we have met exactly one time. That one time, might I add, was the other night when the family stopped by on a walk to ask if we were the Yorks who had a little girl name Ryan going to Catholic preschool this fall, because if so, they were also enrolled in the same class, or so they were told by their grandmother, the director of the preschool. That's right, the other night when Shawn was in Houston, I had just bathed and bedded Jax, and Ninny had arrived minutes before bearing Harry Potter gifts for Ryan. The play room was trashed, which wouldn't be such a bad thing were it not the first room you see when you enter, and I had yet to clean up from dinner. Needless to say, I was not giving off the first impression one hopes for. To top it off, Ryan comes running in wearing her wizard hat and wielding her wand, declaring that she is Harry Potter. I have no prob with the magic bit, but not all people of faith are with me on that subject, so yes, I did cringe, smile, and shrug when the mother looked at Ryan queerly, then raised her eyebrows in my general direction. Apparently, I was trying to come off as the happy-go-lucky mom whose children rule the roost, which would be about right, considering the way today's playdate went down.

We arrive at out neighborhood pool, and warily join the playdate already in progress (we were totally crashing their party). Introductions were made all around, and Ryan jumped in with glee, covering my new mom-friend with water. Sweet.

We eventually made our way to the kiddie pool, all 12 of us, where Ry proceeded to jump, splash and kick in each mom's general direction, refusing to obey my whiny plead to "please stop it, Ry". I'm at such a loss in these situations. I want my kids to be respectful, but I also want them to have fun. I want them to obey, but I don't want to be a dictator. This conundrum usually leaves me looking like a sissy mom, one who makes a couple of pleading directives, then when the kids keep going about their merry way, just shuts up and lets them do their thing. Fortunately, the other moms were in a bit of the same boat, so I felt okay.

Then Ryan started begging to go back in the big pool, and since I was kinda bored with the 8 kids in the 7' by 5' octagon-shaped puddle of water, I acquisced. This, apparently, was where I took a wrong turn. The other moms had been there a while, and I think they were tired and wanting the rest that comes with letting your kids splash in a glorified bathtub while wearing floaties, and were not so keen on moving everyone back to the big pool. Unfortunately, their kids were. And they were egged on by Miss Thang, inviting everyone to "come on and let's race!" This is about the time I start turning various shades of pink.

So we all move over to the big pool, and as I struggle to get Jax in his floatation device, one of the other moms comments on how cute he is, yada yada yada. Ryan picks this moment to announce that she needs to potty, so I ask the complimentary mom if she would mind watching Jax while I take Ry. "Not at all! He's adorable!!" At least, until I hand him over to her and he begins one of his legendary fits. So, I grab him up and shuffle both of them to the potty. When we get back, I again attempt to get Jax in the water, but now he is having none of it and continues the previous fit, at which point every head turns to point and stare at the mean mean mommy forcing her little baby to get in the pool when he just doesn't want to. *HUGE EYEROLL WITH SIGH*

I'm packing him up, smiling apologetically as he screams, simultaneously asking Ryan to get out of the pool again and again and again until each of the other 3 moms in their own special little ways tell Ryan that her mom is talking to her and she needs to listen. 3 seperate times. I am now mortified, but would still rather be the pushover mommy as opposed to the loud yelling mommy I will become once we get in the car. Appearances, you know.

When I finally get everything together, we take the long walk of shame around the pool, Jax still screaming, Ryan still playing, Mommy juggling. Then we get to the gate. Picture me on one leg, hopping while trying to hold a thrashing baby up right, swinging my head around and around to double check location of daughter, all while holding huge floatation device in teeth while digging through bag for gate key. Do I even need to mention the tirade I went on when we got in the car?

And now? Well, now I can't find the damn binky, so Jax is in bed screaming; Ryan is crying in her room where she has been sequestered until further notice and I am taking it out on all of you.

So you see what I mean? Bubble-gum Explosion, Rocky Road and Sour Grapes, baby.

But at least the Vanilla coating looks nice.


Lyndsey said...

I think you need to get a dog. hahahaha

Crazy Rockin' Foxy Mama said...


Missi said...

I can sympathise. I have had many
times like that. It makes you feel
like your head is gonna explode.