Prescription for Disaster

Sunday, 27 April 2014

My bum is aching with pride

My bum is aching with pride

I have officially become one of ‘those’ parents. It is 9:00am on a Saturday. I’ve had a viciously long and stressful week at work. The Friday night wine at home barely took the edge off. Oh how I would love to be at home in bed still, the morning light peeking through my bedroom curtains as I snuggle deeper into my soft, warm duvet and fluffy pillows.

But I’m not.

I am sat on a hard, dirty wooden bench in some sort of side-room full of broken sports equipment and paint-splotched chairs outside of Kung Fu class, with the rest of the miserable parents. Great. Rather than sleeping in and lazing about enjoying my Saturday morning I am watching my kids’ Kung Fu class through a tiny window obscured by other hovering parents eager to watch their precious darlings. I can’t turn off my newly acquired ‘mom instincts’ of tidying this room, pairing discarded sneakers and neatly piling children’s jackets that had been strewn about in the mad dash to get into class.

And then I wait. And waiting sucks.

I look around at the other parents – an assorted and equally miserable lot. Most are staring with glazed eyes at their phone screens, some texting. One has headphones in and seems to be learning Russian. Another heaves a sigh of defeat as his phone battery dies and he is left with nothing to do but actually watch the class. I am interrupted as my twins burst into the parents’ room – it’s a water break and I’ve got nothing.

“Sorry girls, I forgot water. Mum dropped the ball on this one. You’ll be fine though, it’s only an hour. Get back in there.”

Cue looks of judgment from the other parents – they didn’t just bring water, they brought snacks. Well then.

I look around at the newly ‘decorated’ parents room among the abject misery of parents watching the time and playing candy crush on their phones. They’ve put up some pictures, and one seems to be a signed picture of Chuck Norris. This place just got infinitely cooler.

Oh God. There’s still 40 minutes left.

It is like this wherever we go for their classes. Ballet is even worse, as we parents that pay for this crap are all crammed into a church hall side-room with too few chairs and a washroom with a broken door. The room smells of old people and the door sticks, so you have to push so hard when trying to get in that you end up bursting into the room and making a scene grand enough to raise a sea of heads from their iPhones. And then we all just find a spot by the wall and... wait.

I'm jolted from my self-pity by Lochie running into the waiting room - she's upset. Kaitie hit her. "Well yes, Lochs. We're at Kung Fu class. Go hit her back."

Other parents are always looking at me funny.

 I beam with pride as I watch through the window and see my three year olds in fighting stance – the teacher correcting their posture and the smiles on their faces as they look back at me for approval. The waiting is worth it - 

Even though Paul is out golfing.

I think he's got this 'waiting thing' pretty well figured out.

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