LilZ is going on a big school trip in the Spring. To raise money for that trip, his class sponsors the Secret Santa store every year and the proceeds get divided up among the kids whose parents volunteer. So, of course, I volunteered.
But I really DID NOT want to go.
All afternoon I was moaning, “I don’t want to go! Wah!” I had called the school to see where to go and they mentioned they had multiple parents signed up for my shift and none during the day shifts when they really needed them. I took this as a sign that I could totally skip if I wanted. I was whining about it so much that LilZ even said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want.” Just so I would shut up.
At 4:45 (my shift was from 5-7) I told LilZ, “I don’t think I’m going to this thing tonight.” And the look on his face was of SUCH disappointment that I did the mature thing, stomped my foot and said, “FINE! I’ll go then, but I REALLY DONT WANT TO, DAMMIT.”
Maturity is my middle name.
We went. And it was HELL. Boring and weird and my GAWD they were selling GOBS of really cheap items (cheap as in “shitty” not “well priced”) and the kids were buying them up left and right. Weird. The woman in charge had been there all day yesterday AND the day before, with her 8 month old with her the whole time. Her 8 month old who is the 5th of FIVE FREAKING KIDS.
Now THAT woman is active at her child’s school. I could barely make it out to work the Santa shop for two hours, and here she ORGANIZED the damn thing. And even more importantly? She seemed like she ENJOYED it. She was obviously just an escaped mental patient. There is no WAY there are moms like that for REAL.
And if there are? I don’t want to know.
I did my part and LilZ thanked me profusely this morning, which was sweet. He knows how much I hate that crap. And I know how much he appreciates me doing it. So the compromise? I volunteer to do it for him and he deals with my bitching about it without punching me in the face.
It’s a good system.