Last night could have been a really fun evening, complete with dancing and socializing with friends. But NNNNOOOOOO!!!!! My oldest daughter, Sophie, became a walking, blubbering mess of snot and tears. Right when Mommy starts to have fun it is time to leave. It was our annual Danceforce banquet, where we honor dancers who have been truly outstanding over the past year. It is funny, emotional, and--alright, I admit it--a tad LONG. But we were served dinner, there are plenty of kids for mine to play with that they know.
After doing the harsh mom whisper, "KNOCK IT THE HELL OFF!!" to no avail, it was my turn to stand in front of my colleagues and students and present. I eyeballed Sophie who kept getting up, directly in front of the videographer taping the evening's sentimental moments. I watched Daddy reprimand her 457 times before she finally got it, meaning she was scared into submission, perhaps with the threat of grounding or dragging her by her hair into the kitchen to wash dishes. Her long, sad face looked as if someone killed her puppy. She is more melodramatic than a week's worth of Tivo'd Days of Our Lives.
After standing up front for 40 minutes in my 4-inch super cute, pale peach, patent leather heels, which feel decent for about 38 minutes, it was time to DANCE. Play that funky music, white boy! And cue weepy, moody, 8 year-old temper tantrum.
Sophie: "Mooooommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! I am sooooooo tiiiiiiiiired! Can we please just GOOOOO HOOOME?!!"
Me: "Don't you want to dance? Your sister is having fun! So are all your friends. C'mon, just for a little while."
Depart Sophie, complete with dramatic sighing and stomping and evil glare.
Re-enter Sophie, cheeks red and blotchy, tears streaming, even more evil glare.
Sophie: "We are going home NOW! I don't want to be here. I wanna go HOOOOOOOOOOOME!!"
Me: "No, I want to stay a little longer. Just go sit down for a little while."
Exit drama queen with most evil glare. Mommy sighs and sips vodka tonic, getting back to teacher talk and gossip.
Re-enter Sophie accompanied by older dancer/babysitter for dramatic license. I take back former observation, NOW most evil glare EVER. What am I, Satan?
Sophie: "We are leaving NOW! I said I wanna go home!!!! I am sooooooo tired! And you are so MEAN!"
Me: "You are totally killing Mommy's buzz but FIIIIINE. Now that the fun has finally started, we will go home because, as usual, you are getting your way."
Yes, I am Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest but sometimes I need to feel selfish. Sue me, don't tell me you do not hate how your kids disrupt every aspect of your life once in awhile. It's just that the few times I have to take my kids somewhere (read: no babysitter) where I can actually kick it on the dance floor, have a drinkie-poo, and chill it is always time to kick it staight into patient mommy mode, complete with understanding, love, and ability to shut this party down for the sake of my children's rest. Screw that. Next time I will be securing a sitter. And more comfortable shoes.
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