I have been pondering the term Stay at Home Mom lately. At first I thought it was an oxymoron, since most of the moms I know are whirling dervishes of activity - school, ballet classes, soccer practice, playdates, zoo, groceries, library, hardware store, insane asylum - skidding into their driveways just in time to make dinner, administer baths and toss the kids in bed. Then I realized it's because when we want to go out, we find ourselves staying at home.
Unless we beg and plead and cajole, as I have this week.
This week I made it out to see "The Miser" in Dennis with my theater friend. We stopped at Gracie's Tables on the way and had snacks at the bar. I believe they are called Tapas, not Snacks, if one is to be all picky about it. Our snacks included banana fingerling tartiflette (which I order solely for the enjoyment of saying it out loud), some ridiculously yummy wild mushroom thing, pate (theater friend is a devotee of the organs of fowl) and something else I am forgetting entirely but which was delicious I am sure. I ran my theory by my friend and she replied that yes "stay at home mom" is an oxymoron for just about everyone except of course for that poor woman in the basement who was really the ultimate stay at home mom, at which point I watched Patatas Bravas come right out of a woman's nose a few seats down the bar. I was glad to see this as I had been wondering if she was listening. She then asked us which play we were going to see and where it was - perhaps so she could maybe go somewhere else.
We went to the play because a) we like going to plays, and b) my friend Cat was in it. I will go to pretty much anything Cat is in, including but not restricted to the occasional demolition derby - which she has been known to win. I can't tell you how knowing a Demolition Derby winner just makes my little heart sing with pride. She's also a radio personality and has interviewed my husband on the air. Not that an interview with my husband is anything at all like a demolition derby. I didn't mean to imply any such thing. Especially not last year's derby, in which Cat's car caught fire repeatedly.
Where was I? Right, the play. Cat very nearly stole it entirely. We tried to say hello afterwards but she was probably whisked out the back door into her waiting limo. Fame, it does such things.
And then because I was on a cultural roll and because I am working on my application for SAINTHOOD, I took Lucy to her friend's dance recital. And then because I have been so good all year and the universe owed me a little something pretty - the recital did not suck. No really, it didn't. In fact I'm all set to send Lucy to join her friend's class next year because unlike the one I just went to, I am pretty sure Lucy's recital is going to be nothing short of cataclysmic. We have not seen her NINETY DOLLAR costume yet and because there seem to be star-spangled tap dance moves involved I am just sure the costume will make her look like a very patriotic hooker. And then we'll get to buy the video so we can remember it always.
Speaking of recital videos, there was one playing in the lobby tonight of a past year's recital. There was a group of teenage girls clustered around it pointing to themselves and shrieking. One of them said "Oh my God I was so skinny then!" She is now a full size zero, I am sure. I cannot see the monitor from where I am standing and wonder to myself what she must have looked like when she was skinny. To no one in particular she continues "that was when I weighed 86 pounds."
This makes me think I should take Lucy out of dance class entirely. It's just wrong. But then we all file back in for the second half and it looks like so darn much fun I am not only back to enrolling Lucy, I'm thinking I should take some classes myself. Yes yes I am already taking a dance class but in THIS class I will weigh 86 pounds and look like THAT.
Or maybe I'll enter the demolition derby.