The Adventures of Mom

(Or signs you may be harbouring a future world traveller)

I never saw it coming- honest. My son is such a home-loving child, unlike my daughter, who received a backpack and fluffy boots on Christmas morning, put them on, said “Bye Mom!” And headed out the door, still in her PJs with the rest of her gifts still wrapped- I knew then that she was destined to follow in my foot steps, whether I liked it or not. But it was my quiet son who shocked me one day when he came out with, “I don’t want to be like Emeril, I want to be like Bourdain.”

Now it is difficult to translate a five year old brain, but his Chef Daddy was watching Emeril on the TV at the time and the kids know that when Emeril goes off, it is time for bed. I, myself, watch the No Reservations show on the Travel Channel late at night and enjoy the sarcastic coffee house humor of the chain smoking, heavy drinking Anthony Bourdain. “Um, what do you mean?” I asked carefully, wondering if my son was destined to sit in sidewalk cafe’ s smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey.

“I don’t want to stay in one place like Emeril - I want to go all over like Bourdain.” He said.

Weesh! That was a close call. “Yes that would be cool to travel like Bourdain,” I agreed, seeing another piece of me in my son. Sorry Emeril & Daddy- I guess it’s NOT all about the food!

I have recently been indoctrinated into the sometimes bizarre & frightening realm of a school mommy. My baby is a big boy now and I am left on the sidelines- or shall I say carline, waiting for him daily. Now I am by far NOT the youngest mom in the kindergarten class- okay even the teacher is younger than me! But I certainly am one of the least experienced. I traded in my trusty daypack/diaper bag and bought a purse to meet the teacher, dyed my hair- okay just the roots and whitened my teeth just for the first day- you’d  think I was the one going to school.

Then I saw my baby off, and made sure I had a half hour to spare to arrive at school before it let out- okay here comes the reality. I drove up (half hour to spare and all) and ended up way outside the gate on the line down the road. Surely this could not be right? The next day, I arrive ten minutes earlier- sure enough there are atleast ten cars ahead. Hmm, by day three, I figure I can beat them and add another ten minutes pre-time. There are six cars ahead!! I tell myself these must be mad mommies (I told my friend Nicole this, but  now wonder if she thought I meant angry mommies) No, mad, as in Queeen’s English mad- the crazy old aunt Emily who shows up for Christmas dinner with curlers in her hair and bedroom slippers on her feet mad- loopy. Yes, do these mommies set out an hour after school starts to take the coveted place at the front of the carline? Do they have nothing else to do, or carry laptops and work from the car? (I wonder how many of them did the 24 hour wait for that last Harry Potter book- these experienced waiting women!)

I laughed about it with my husband, but on Friday when I hustled Sydney into her car seat and drove at top speed down the road to sit for over an hour in a car line, I started to laugh at myself as I pulled up- to my fifth spot in the car line- oh my gosh- I have become one of them- a mad mommy! Next time I may just arrive with the curlers in my hair and the slippers on my feet….