I feel like I have been caught jamming a whole lot of cake in my mouth.

I was caught...

Every Wednesday, we have a sitter that picks up the girls from school and makes them dinner.  This gives Ching and me three hours to do other things but predominantly to stay at work.  I have all these little things to get done and today was a sucky focus day.  But my toes have chipped nail polish and quite frankly, they nails need to be cut.  (I like it when they cut my nails for me.  They get them so straight across.  I tend to produce weird ass slants.)  I said, "freak it" while I packed up my computer to get the small things done from home but after I go get a pedicure.

From Ching and the girl's perspective, I am still at work, but in reality, I am in a massage chair soaking in bubbly warm water.  I know I shouldn't feel guilty but I do.  I am sure this tendency is explained in many books either about being on the brink or not leaning in enough.  Last week, I saw a list of 23 things that women shouldn't do but do anyway.  Tell me something I don't know--maybe that should be number 24 for the author.

So as I am finishing up feeling like I have pulled a fast one on the other Wangs.  My toes look great and my skin is much softer.  This was totally worth it.  But then it happens...another mom brought her daughter, who is a friend of Laurel's, for a manicure.  I feel like I have been caught jamming a whole lot of cake in my mouth.  I see the mom but she doesn't see me yet.  Not only do I a feel busted but then I have to do that little pep talk--"nothing inappropriate, nothing awkward."  Then the voices start to bicker inside my head--"I should at least say hi."  "I should only say hi if she sees me."  Or, my fave, "screw her, she just ruined my cover."

The mother isn't judgmental--she doesn't care that I am there.  It's that her daughter is going to tell Laurel that I was there getting my toes down as she was getting a manicure. Jesus Christ, when did this become junior high?  Because I introduced Laurel to the world of mani/pedi's, she now feels entitled.

The mom sees me and I am able to be very proper:  "Nice to see you.  Hi there (to the girl).  Enjoy your manicures."  Wow, sometimes I do have a stick up my butt that makes me very salutary.  But regardless, I skulk out of there likes it's a strip club and I am dirty and smelling like broad.

I must have a look of deceit when I walk into the house.  Laurel's eyes goes right down to my toes and she says, "Nice color.  When did you get that done?"  I avoid the question, knowing that she is going to find out tomorrow.

(And this is #400...thank you for reading.)

You know how some people can't wait to take off uncomfortable undergarments as soon as they get home--my filter is my uncomfortable undergarment.

I woke up with the feeling of dread.  All day this event just looming over me like a dark cloud.  Tonight is the Cabot Community Dinner.  It's a back to school dinner that gets parents and kids together with pizza, sweets and a DJ.

First of all, it's on a Tuesday--the worse day of the week.  By Tuesday night, you are elbow deep in your typical weekly crap and the week isn't even half way done.  Secondly, I have no urge to be social and correct.  To be correct means keeping the filter on.  All day at work, I focus and have that filter on but as soon as I get through the door, the filter is off.  You know how some people can't wait to take off uncomfortable undergarments as soon as they get home--my filter is my uncomfortable undergarment.

Ching gets there first because he has volunteered to sell tickets (Slices of pizza, juice boxes and desserts are purchased with tickets.)  I am just going to show up.  For Christ's sake, I have been nice all day.

I don't like these things.  I am okay in smaller classroom settings with parents on either side of me.  But this is a sea of adults and kids and I don't want to walk up to someone and strike up a conversation (and probably say something inappropriate and awkward is the filter isn't on tight enough). Of course the one conversation I will have will be right near the DJ booth and I won't be able to hear a God damn thing.

I am okay with not being friends with other mothers at Laurel's school.  I am okay with this because I have friends, they are just not mothers at this school.  Maybe eventually, when I figure out who Laurel's real bestie is and I will make the effort.  But right now I am friendless at Cabot Elementary and I am okay with that.

So when I get home and change my clothes, I can all ready hear the DJ in the field. I look at the clock and let myself know that this will be over in 90 minutes.

I get there and Laurel wants me to join her on the "dance grass" and do the swing dance.  I just twirl her a bit and then Rachel is like a magnet wanted to twirl too.  With all of twirling going on, this is when a mom comes up to me.  Sure as shit...the one mom that talks to me is right by a speaker.  I think I talked about volunteering on picture day.

Ching is sitting among the ladies selling tickets.  I am somewhat amused but proud at the same time.  There are several woman volunteers and one dude.  That one dude is my man, Mr. Ching Wang.  I am curious how that conversation is going--wondering if it's about activities, new teachers or a lack of focus.  Hearing about other kids and their lack of focus calms him down.

As Rachel wants to spin to the music, I decide that I don't need to talk to anyone....because with this spinning I may throw up.  I notice Laurel dancing and realize that her pants are too small.  I am also question those moves and may have to curb her Katy Perry watching.  And why is she dancing in her socks?  Where the hell are her sneakers?

I look around and notice other parents that are just standing, watching like zombies.  I don't think they want to talk either.  Maybe they also realize, like me, that they have eight more of these dinners in the future until all kids are in junior high.

Before the last song, they announce there is a parents only event on 9/27.  I really don't see myself going to that event either.

My inner bitch finds solace that she is sporting a scrunchy.

This past week marked an event that is considered blog gold for me--it was Open House at Laurel's school. Last year was the nut butter incident so this year, my guard is up.  Also, I just make sure I am close to the door.

The event doesn't start out that great because it's 93 degrees out and the Pike was jammed due to an accident.  I arrive seven minutes late (but I look pretty good, I will give myself that) as do other parents with similar commutes.  While I come in during the presentation, I find that it's the same one as last year and the year before that.  This version just happens to be for 2nd grade.

Surprisingly, the presentation goes by pretty quickly which is good because sweat is dripping down my legs.  I do brace myself for the Q+A period and true to form, there is a question that has nothing to do with the group but for one individual family.  And then there is a question from a low speaking bitchy mom that gets aggravated that she has to repeat herself.  (Yeah, your kid sucks too.)  My inner bitch finds solace that she is sporting a scrunchy.

Finally, the group is broken up into the individual classrooms and I get to check out Laurel's stuff. And her teacher...who looks really, really young.  Good Lord, she doesn't even look like she has gone through puberty yet.  Never the less, I put that aside because she was a very good speaker during the presentation and Laurel loves her.  I am also trying to be on my best behavior.  This type of event usually brings out my non-filter personality which leads me to say awkward things at inappropriate times.  

Laurel leaves a written letter telling my what she likes about school and what she would like to do this year.  Her first goal is to make more friends.  Out loud, I say, "more friends?  You wanted 40 of your besties at last year's birthday party!"  Other parents are looking at me wondering who I was talking to and why am I questioning more friends?  And I start coughing, like that is going to camouflage my babbling.

Then I see another writing project that states her favorite part of 1st grade was homework.  That is such a blatant suck up and lie!  And I don't keep this to myself either.  I also don't even notice if parents are slowly inching away from me.  

I don't care because I have the task of introducing myself to Laurel's teacher.  As I am waiting my turn I am next to one of Laurel's best friend's mom.  I like her very much and am always astounded by her time management.  She is volunteering to be a classroom mom.  I inch away from her and avoid eye contact with the teacher.  I want to make is clear that I am not volunteering.  This mom (of two adopted Chinese girls) offers all sorts of resources for the social studies project on China.  I am then reminded that my Chinese husband may not even remember that he is Chinese.  

Still waiting for my intro turn and I notice the nut butter mom!  Her daughter must be in this class.  She has a baby strapped to the front of her and is sporting huge side boob---Oh my God, please start feeding your kid in here.  Whip it out and let all the dads either stare or squick out!  And she doesn't...oh well.  (Thankfully I kept that request silent.)

Oh my turn...

JCW:  "Hi.  I wanted to introduce myself.  My name is Jude Carlson-Wang.  I am Laurel's mom. She thinks very highly of you."

Laurel's teacher:  "Oh Laurel--she is a very charming, independent girl."

JCW:  "Yeah, I don't know where she gets that.  I don't think she is my kid."

L's T:  stares blankly

I need to stop doing this......