Throwback: Lunchtime!

i will bet you didnt know that i have a sense of humor, unless you talk to me on a regular basis. it appears some of my readers think im a serious, reserved, stick in the mud. that couldnt be further from the truth. so to prove it, im gonna post a few funny things that i did last year. they still ring true.

march 21 2008
today, i decided to be a nice mommy and eat lunch with Ariana at school. i had SEVERAL reservations about this, starting with her demanding attitude about what i could and could not bring her to eat. since when has a happy meal been out of fashion?? unfortunately for her, she didnt get her $7 KFC meal...

i try to stay out of elementary schools. they are germ Wal-marts. any disease, from the flu, to mad cow, to MRSA is probably lurking on the snotty, unwashed hand of a first grader, and trust and believe, that hand is touching your child’s hand. and notebook. and pencil.

when i arrived, i had to sign in similar to the way you enter Fort Knox. Computers, name tags, urine sample, i mean seriously, nobody wants my child but me, and on a good day...anyway, after procuring my name tag, i sat at a table marked "guest table" in the back. correct me if im wrong, but when I had a parent come to eat, they got to eat with me at the class table. now, you eat at what is fondly referred to in my family as the "exile table".

the kindergarteners were eating their lunch. or, playing with it. im telling you, if the Peace Corp or any other Childrens Methodist/Catholic/Shriners organization begging for ten cents a day saw the SHEER WASTE OF FOOD IN THERE....i was appalled. seriously parents, unless you’ve got that really greedy kid who eats everything all the time, you are wasting money sending lunch money to school. and those Lunchables that they beg for in Food Lion until they are blue in the face? i think more got thrown away than eaten.

i also noticed, as the first graders were filing in, a lot of girls had bought salads. not slightly chubby girls, or girls who havent burned off that really cute baby fat, but girls that NEEDED a slice of the deep fried crap everybody else was marching out with. what 6 year old girl needs a salad and skim milk for lunch? hell, i do. but thats besides the point. parents, teach your girls what a twinkie is. followed by gravy, whole milk, and a salt shaker. teach them to love those dimples, and to save the salads for when she is 26, unmarried, and single.

Back to the "exile table". Ariana was tearing into her Wendy’s, while the other 4 mothers with kids at the table were discussing something PTA related...on that note. i hate the PTA. i actually went to a meeting at the beginning of LAST year. i was sooo excited, i even dressed for the occasion, like June Cleaver who had managed to feed her child a balanced breakfast, kissed her at the bus stop, cleaned the entire house, and breathlessly floated into the school cafeteria, skin dewy, lip gloss perfect, and jeans crisply pressed. What i got instead was a cafeteria full of haggard, thrown together, 40-something, pre-menopausal women with cheerios still stuck to their sweats and not a stitch of makeup on. the PTA president bounced her 3 year old on her hip, thanked us for coming, swigged out of a Starbucks cup (which im sure had some alcohol in it) and proceeded to tell the women to be "considerate" of the other mothers in the class..."Some of them," she whispered, "even work jobs outside the home!" I looked around, stunned. A woman next to me with a Wachovia name badge on mumbled "Huh?" The women shook their heads in pity, and Ms. Wachovia and i glanced at each other in shock. i wanted to yell, "Darn right i work outside the home! I also know what a 401k is, how to balance a checkbook, and where Ann Taylor Loft is! Im sooo sorry i didnt marry a doctor or lawyer who can work 80 hours a week so that i can stay home dressed in 4 year old maternity clothes and not brush my hair!" So yeah, i didnt join this year. Take that and shove it in your VCR next to Barney, Chick.

oh yeah, lunch. There was the ever-present cafeteria Nazi in place, wearing a cheerful apron full of straws, napkins, and spoons, making her rounds and never really doing anything other than open cartons of milk and packets of ketchup. Every ten seconds she yelled about sending someone to the office. By the time she’d hit about the twelth or thirteenth child, they shrugged her off, knowing she had probably never sent anyone to the office, and never would. really lady, shut up and open this 2%. my dry and poorly cooked lunch is totally stuck in my throat.

i think my final straw was on my way out after lunch, and i saw a notice for the spring picture date. as i scanned the group of loud, toothless, adrenaline-stricken angels, i realized that it was 11:45am, school had started at 9:30am, and these kids looked like they had been running laps around a high school track. I take time to iron clothes, brush hair, etc., in the mornings. Im also pretty sure that other parents do the same. So why did my child look like a hobo? and why do all YOUR children look like hobo’s too? in a matter of two hours, your child already looks as though the teacher has set up a child labor camp making NIKE’s in the back. what gives? and these same teachers will let these dusty, estranged children take their school pictures like this. is it that hard to say "James, smooth your hair down, sweetie." instead, i think they all sit in the back, sipping on diet Cokes and giggle, "Hey Linda, James is up next. Great call setting up recess for ten minutes ago! Cant wait to see those pics!" With my luck, Ariana will have recess, gym, art, and a fire drill in the rain, right before spring pictures. But, the picture that results, although resembling a celebrity DUI mugshot, will proudly go on our coffee table. So Mrs White, lets try and see if we can get those pictures taken as the kids are getting off the bus, m-kay?

i did enjoy lunch, even in its loud, germy haze. it gave Ariana and i time to bond. So next time you find yourself eating an overpriced fast food meal at the exile table, smooth down your kids hair, give them a kiss, and shoot a smoldering glare at the PTA president at the next table. you’ll be glad you did.