Tsunami Mommy
I rushed out the door at precisely 3:29:59pm and raced to my kids' school. Once home I ushered them into the house and threw a bag of fruit snacks in after them. I closed the door and sat at my computer. 90 minutes later and an ethics assignment behind me, I reversed the procedure. Grab various and assorted children...throw into car...throw in fruit snacks...drive.
At precisely 6:29:59 we arrived at the 6:30 Tsunami Aid concert at my campus. Various and assorted children threw fruit snacks away in favor of various and assorted processed foods and cold pizza. It's okay - all proceeds go to the Tsunami recovery efforts, so I can rest assured no preservatives will actually have the nerve to do any damage, what with such a noble cause and all.
At precisely 6:31:01 my various and assorted children begin to beg for t-shirts, ball caps, more hot dogs and popcorn, another t-shirt, a CD... but, (repeat after me) it's okay because it's all for the Tsunami victims.
At precisely 7:14:22 I am nearing poverty. I'm also thirsty as hell, and I have a headache because I thought I'd do my homework while listening to really awful local rock bands...playing really loudly in a gymnasium - the ideal situation, accoustically speaking. I begin to root around in my purse for any remaining quarters. It is at precisely this moment that my son asks me for a dollar.
The Boy: Mom, I need a dollar.
The Mom: You're kidding, right? What else is left to buy? How are we going to get it home? Where are you going to put it?
The Boy: I'm not kidding. I haven't bought a raffle ticket. It will ride in my pocket on the way home, and go under my pillow when I get to my room.
The Mom: I don't like the raffle. Go buy another hot dog.
The Son: I will puke if I eat another hot dog. I like the raffle. I need a dollar.
The Mom: *seriously sick of negotiations - not with said children, but with the concept of deltas and land barriers* You realize whoever wins that raffle gets 50% of the money raised tonight? Doesn't that seem wrong?
The Son: The dollar? Please?
*Cue the sidebar* Now really... I dropped the better part of a day's pay at this fund raiser. I'm not at all thrilled with the idea of them raising more money so they can give half of it away. Now I'm really broke, and I still don't have my diet coke, and I still have my headache.
The Son: Hold this for me.
The Mom: It's supposed to fit in your pocket.
The Son: I don't want to lose it. I just know I'm going to win. You know why? Because when I win, I'm going to take my 50% and give it right back to the tsunami victims.
The Mom: *no words... just awe.*
Various and assorted beverages: $32.00
Various and assorted souveniers: $52.00
Having your flesh and blood do something so unbelievable you shudder with pride? Priceless.
Damned RIGHT that little man is gonna win.... even if Mommy has to tell a little white lie ;)
At precisely 6:29:59 we arrived at the 6:30 Tsunami Aid concert at my campus. Various and assorted children threw fruit snacks away in favor of various and assorted processed foods and cold pizza. It's okay - all proceeds go to the Tsunami recovery efforts, so I can rest assured no preservatives will actually have the nerve to do any damage, what with such a noble cause and all.
At precisely 6:31:01 my various and assorted children begin to beg for t-shirts, ball caps, more hot dogs and popcorn, another t-shirt, a CD... but, (repeat after me) it's okay because it's all for the Tsunami victims.
At precisely 7:14:22 I am nearing poverty. I'm also thirsty as hell, and I have a headache because I thought I'd do my homework while listening to really awful local rock bands...playing really loudly in a gymnasium - the ideal situation, accoustically speaking. I begin to root around in my purse for any remaining quarters. It is at precisely this moment that my son asks me for a dollar.
The Boy: Mom, I need a dollar.
The Mom: You're kidding, right? What else is left to buy? How are we going to get it home? Where are you going to put it?
The Boy: I'm not kidding. I haven't bought a raffle ticket. It will ride in my pocket on the way home, and go under my pillow when I get to my room.
The Mom: I don't like the raffle. Go buy another hot dog.
The Son: I will puke if I eat another hot dog. I like the raffle. I need a dollar.
The Mom: *seriously sick of negotiations - not with said children, but with the concept of deltas and land barriers* You realize whoever wins that raffle gets 50% of the money raised tonight? Doesn't that seem wrong?
The Son: The dollar? Please?
*Cue the sidebar* Now really... I dropped the better part of a day's pay at this fund raiser. I'm not at all thrilled with the idea of them raising more money so they can give half of it away. Now I'm really broke, and I still don't have my diet coke, and I still have my headache.
The Son: Hold this for me.
The Mom: It's supposed to fit in your pocket.
The Son: I don't want to lose it. I just know I'm going to win. You know why? Because when I win, I'm going to take my 50% and give it right back to the tsunami victims.
The Mom: *no words... just awe.*
Various and assorted beverages: $32.00
Various and assorted souveniers: $52.00
Having your flesh and blood do something so unbelievable you shudder with pride? Priceless.
Damned RIGHT that little man is gonna win.... even if Mommy has to tell a little white lie ;)
posted by Robin at 9:15 PM
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