Dear Moms At Daycare

Dear Moms at my son's daycare:

Hi!  I don't know if we've had a chance to meet, but I'm Paul's mom.  No, not his grandma.  I'm his mom.

I'm the mom without the tattoos. 

First let me say -- your kid is a cutie.  Paul really likes his friends.  He was so happy to make valentines for each and every one of them.  Also, he truly appreciated all the heart-shaped suckers, the dum-dums, and of course, the Hershey kisses.

The thing is. . . you forgot the conversation hearts.

I know you may be new at the whole Valentine's Day thing.  Paul is my third child, so we've done Valentine's for a long time.  I make sure to explain to my boys that Valentine's day is named for St. Valentine.  I explain that he was a martyr, who died for Christ.  We talk a lot about that as I go through the bags of Valentine's candy that they bring home from school.  Valentine's day is actually about Jesus, and not about romantic love or candy.

Their dad emphasizes the point by waiting until the last minute to buy me a valentine gift.  This year, it was a potted plant.  I am pretty sure it was the last one at the store.  So we talked about Christ's love, and how God loves every living thing, even really, really hideous potted plants that cost three times what they normally would have, on account of being purchased at the very last second.

It's a teachable moment.

Anyway, as I was setting aside the dum-dums and heart shaped suckers for the boys, and confiscating all the Hershey's kisses (they are a choking hazard), I noticed that you forgot the conversation hearts.

I am sure it was a mistake. 

As you know, conversation hearts are a once-in-a-year candy, like candy canes, candy corn and of course cadbury cream eggs.  It's important that they be included in every Valentine's celebration. 

Plus, they have words on them, which is another teachable moment.

When else is my child going to read the word "hubba-hubba"?

You may ask why I didn't supply the hearts this year.  That's a fair question, but remember that I am the mom who occasionally remembers to bring the napkins for the Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Years-Martin Luther King day parties. 

Normally, I would let it go, but I haven't had a can of pop in almost two weeks.  I almost took up smoking as a substitute, but the cost of cigarettes is crazy.  I need those fucking hearts.

So listen:  St. Patricks Day is in a month.  The kids are having a party.  Put together some goodie bags with green jolly ranchers, chocolate coins and  a king size box of sugar babies.  We'll call it even.

Love,

Paul's Mom

Water Baby

We go to the beach a lot.  We love the beach.  This weekend, while at the beach, a little girl came by to play with the boys.   I love that about kids.  They see another kid & they just start to play together. 

And this girl is ADORABLE. She has beautiful cafe-con-leche skin; crazy, happy hair with a tiny blue barrette in it, and a precious pink gingham bikini.  This child was friendly and very charming. This is the kind of child that makes me wish (a tiny bit) that I had a little girl.

What she didn't seem to have were parents.

I asked where they were & she said "they are in the white car". . .I looked -- saw the white car, but no parents.

Her name is Olivia, and she is 3.

THREE. Almost 4, apparently, but still. She's 3.

The waves at Bob Hall Pier are not too bad, but it's very easy to get out too far without realizing it. Especially if you are 3.

My son is 3 and I won't let him NEAR the water without me or his dad. I won't let the 6 or 9 year olds near the water without me or their dad.

I have this thing about water safety. I think it is important.

I think that one of the duties a parent has is to ensure that children are safe around water.  Pools, lakes and beaches.  Beaches with strong undertows that can sweep a child out into the ocean as fast as you can say David Hasselhoff.

We could not see this girl's parents anywhere.

When it was time to go, I said "Olivia honey, we have to go. Let's go find your mommy, OK?"

She said "No -- I am going to find some other kids to play with" and she skipped over to another family playing not far away.

I approached the family and explained: "I don't know who she is, but I am going to call the ranger. Can you keep an eye on her?"  The Mom said "I thought she was yours".

I wish.

By the time I got to the car -- Viola! Her mother shows up.

Her mother looks just like you'd think she'd look. 19. Tramp Stamp. Piercings.  Gangster Boyfriend who obviously is not Olivia's daddy.  (How do I know?  Olivia is clearly half white and half black.  Gangster Boyfriend is clearly Hispanic.  Not Olivia's daddy.) 

It's not that I have a problem with moms being 19 with tramp stamps and piercings and Gangster Boyfriends. (well, the 19 & Gangster Boyfriend parts aren't cool). I do have a problem with letting your 3 year old play by the water without proper supervision.

Sigh. Poor Olivia.

Ink

Because I had my last baby at age 42, it's not a surprise that I am sometimes 20 (or more) years older than the other moms in his class.

One of his best friends has parents much younger than me.

They are intelligent.  Educated.  Interesting.  Tattooed. 

They have beautiful children and they are a lovely young family.  They are just covered from toenails to eyeballs in colorful, permanent designs.  With lots of piercings.  Both of them.  I don't know what they do for a living, but I am betting neither one of them is a banker.

I don't mean to sound like such an oldster. 

I am not anti-tattoo.  Not at all.  I may get one someday. 

I might need it sooner than later.

I was dropping #3 off at daycare.  I wore a skirt.  His little friend with the colorful mommy gave me a hug.  Then he poked me right above the knee and said "My mommy has a picture there too."

I looked at my knee to see what he was talking about.

That's not a picture, honey.

It's a varicose vein.

Sigh.