The Community Paper

For Moms, Spring Break Has a Whole New Meaning


 

Ahhhh, Spring Break in the 32804!  My husband took a vacation and we’re not traveling this year, so for us it’s a week for mapping out new daily adventures that are a reasonable driving distance, family-oriented, and budget-friendly.

Most of all, though, I look forward to a week free of dropping my kids off at school.  While I love my children’s schools, College Park moms are notoriously put-together, and I’m just not.  When I said “I do” eight years ago, I assumed pajama pants were my new uniform, and make-up and shaving above the knee became optional.  When my oldest son reached preschool, there was a new reality.

There are three types of moms at drop-offs:  Posh Spice, Sporty Spice, and me.

 

Let’s start with me.  I’m the one herding two older children down the hallway with a two year old often thrown over my shoulder, protesting loudly because I wouldn’t give him Cheez-Its for breakfast.  While I look tired, I am largely unaware of the yelling because I have been having this argument since 7am for the last four years.  I’m dressed in my preschool teacher clothes that are comfy and utilitarian, faded from washing out finger paint and the pulling and stretching that occurs when you sit in and get up from tiny chairs a hundred times a day.  And I usually have a longing and envious look on my face when she walks in…

 

Posh Spice:  the mom whose clothes aren’t from a store that also sells toilet paper and car care supplies.  Her accessories match.  Her hair is done.  Her children are smiling, I’d imagine because their lunch boxes are packed with lobster and rainbows.  She smiles at me.  Can she read my mind?  Does she know my kids are here for the fifteenth consecutive school day with a peanut butter sandwich, a granola bar and a cheese stick because I’m afraid they’ll disown me if I pack anything else?  I kiss my kindergartener on the forehead and he’s a little embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as he was in the parking lot because I wanted to finish belting out the Katy Perry song that came on the radio before we came in.

 

I run into Sporty Spice:  the mom who works out every single day when the kids are at school. The one in the outfit that probably reflects her hard work, but I’m afraid to look because she’ll definitely think I’m checking her out.  So I don’t, because I keep reminding myself to keep eye contact, just smile and maintain eye contact.  Her kids have big lunch boxes, each one presumably packed with kale chips, a motivational poster, and a ribeye.  They’re smiling, too.  Maybe they’re happy they got to see mom run a marathon this past weekend or they benched their own weight, I don’t know.

 

The feeling of inadequacy starts to seep in, then I look at my own kids, who are also smiling.  They may not have a mom who knows how to do that cool, complicated knot with a scarf, or do a Tough Mudder, but do they have a mom who sings in the car and drives through massive puddles like Mario Andretti… and sometimes even smuggles Cheez-Its in her pocket for the ride to school.

 

Sometimes, I get together with Posh and Sporty.  Our kids play, we compare notes and, if I planned the play date, we have mimosas.  I remember we’re all on the same team, all doing our best not to raise axe murderers.  And I smile.

My daily partner in crime and an awesome teacher, Miss Leslie, and I in our finest preschool attire.

My daily partner in crime and an awesome teacher, Miss Leslie, and I in our finest preschool attire.

Here I am with my daily partner-in-crime and awesome preschool teacher, Miss Leslie, in some of our finest preschool attire.

Here I am with my daily partner-in-crime and awesome preschool teacher, Miss Leslie, in some of our finest preschool attire.

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