The Hierarchy

The girls and I plodded down the hill to the park, keeping our eyes on a cacophony of bodies splayed over, in and around the play structure. It was covered with writhing school children practicing every wrong way to use the facility. I looked over at Shelby's gaping mouth and then snapped my own shut. "Auugghhhhhh!" It's origin was a group of mothers huddled on the lawn together, heads tossed back in laughter, hands wildly waving in animation, noisily chatting all at once. This was their weekly after school play date. I watched this clique of seasoned moms like an awkward freshman gazing at the popular senior circle in envy. Their shirts were pressed, their hair done, the look of refreshed calm across their powdered faces after their 6 hour school day was spent at the yoga studio, followed by a blissful afternoon in their baby contraption free living room reading adult literature and painting their nails. Oh, to be them! Am I drooling? Oh, no that's Ana. Crap, a wet spot on the crotch of my jeans. Perfect. Well, for now I'm wrestling too tight tights, tying shoes, catching spit up and wiping asses. Someday, I too will graduate.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Then you'll be sad!