Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Parent (11/16/06)
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TITLE: Rose Bowl Parade | Previous Challenge Entry
By Angeline oppenheimer
11/21/06 -
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The school parking lot resembles a drive-through at In and Out Burger. Only the drivers don’t have a handful of hungry children waiting for the can’t-eat-it-fast-enough fries. All the charges are stowed away in school, safe for now and the drivers can actually take a moment to breathe in the air and study the designs of clouds. Or wind down the window to smell the fuchsias, spewing out of the yards lining the street. She must steal the moment, for soon the bell will ring, and voices will tumble out, topsy-curvy, followed by robust kids ready to take on their moms and the world. Soon, she would have to transform herself into a chameleon of expertise---anger manager, tantrums zapper, motivational speaker (even if her charges have grown hard of hearing), cheerleader sans the outfit, human GPS, play dates planner and a general all round facilitator of sorts.
But for now, I love to sit in line to watch. Mothers on parade. I can even feel a muse coming on, every time I look at the devotion and love at which they do this every day, well, every school day:
Here comes the lady with stroller in tow,
Still in her floral pajamas, hair mangled in a scrunchgy
A little one is clutching her pants
She walks on, pointing out a bird, a plane, a worm on a tree,
Her speech is reduced to two-syllable, as you can plainly see.
Another click-clogged in her stilettos,
Her powered suit glistening in the sun
With determination, she heads for the school
Will her prowess at work be a match
For the kids she‘ll soon fetch?
This could be a former calendar girl
Face in perfect palette, hair in place
She glides on with grace
How did she manage such composure,?
She’s from a different planet, I’m sure.
Soon the gate is clustered with moms,
All with the same poise,
Long necks, peering for their own brood
Laser eyes, watching a particular corner, or classroom,
Arms ready for hugs or to lug their oversized backpacks
Love worn gently on the shoulder,
Privy only to the observer.
“Mom, I’m hungry,” Peter broke my reverie.
So soon the hours at school fly and now, it’s time to put on my chauffeur cap and go whenever the day of the week dictates. Tennis, ballet, piano, drums, Hebrew lessons, Jazz band…and often times, detours…Jumba Juice, Starbucks and Yummy Sushi around the corner.
“I brought a banana, 2 Doritos, 2 cold Gatorades, pretzels, goldfish and gummy bears.” I’m sure I’ve enough choices to stack a grocery aisle, enough to please everyone and I’m talking of 2 charges.
“Oeww…goldfish again. You know I hate goldfish!.” Peter, my picky one, whined.
“Then have some gummy bears.” I tried.
“Those have been sitting in the sun. Gross!”
“See, mom, he’s always complaining. I want the banana,” Beth loves to show the flaws of her brother.
“I want the banana too!” The banana suddenly looks desirable to Peter, even though he hates the fruit.
“Sorry, I thought you don’t like bananas.”
“I do now, Oww, mom, look, Beth is contaminating the whole banana by biting on it!”
A snippet of the first moments after school. Always interesting, always dramatic, and sometimes, heart-wrenching, especially when they are cranky from school and both need to let out stream through some verbal banter. I’ve learned to grow wax in my ears. And to quell unrest, I’d installed a loudspeaker in my mouth.
Later that night, when both have finally fallen asleep, I may have some time to myself, if my husband hasn’t found me, doubled over, within five minutes of the eleven o’clock news.
But the muse must go on to save the joys of parenthood. In my dream, the muse managed to stagger to the final stanza.
So, if these moms were to go on parade,
They’ll be Rose Bowl worthy,
Love in different shades and colors,
Put together, day in, day out,
A crayola of splendor, a dazzling display,
The Father’s love radiating from jars of clay.
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