Note: I am not CityMom. CityMom is Leanza Cornett Steines. Which I am sure you will be able to very obviously tell by reading her first entry. Enjoy!
First, let me make it perfectly clear that I never intended on raising children in Los Angeles. Actually, I'm not sure where I thought I'd be raising children if at all. But here I am, in Los Angeles, with two children. Cards dealt...I'm playin' em.
So, LA is a land of celebrity, red carpet, valet parking, traffic, homeless people and general craziness. We are the town magazines love and people love to hate. Not only do I live here, but I am a part of the insanity because of the career that brought me here in the first place. My husband and I work in the "Entertainment Industry," which could mean that we wait tables as we wait for our "big break" but alas...we are actually WORKING in said industry. This effects our parenting only because we're raising our children in a world that, in my opinion is not realistic. People do not generally go to school with the kid whose Dad starred in the latest "Indiana Jones" movie. My kids do.
And speaking of Indiana Jones...
Every year, there is a parent's breakfast at the school Oldest and Youngest attend. I decided to make a delicious breakfast casserole and drive it down to the breakfast in hopes of impressing everyone with my culinary talents and home skills. A few minutes into the ride to school, Youngest had decided that the smell of the casserole was making him sick. The kid has some serious olfactory issues. So, I rolled down the windows in the car, which inspired complaints of too much wind, too cold, too loud. Seriously, it's a 4 minute car ride, and I was ready to pull over and start crying. By the time we were physically walking into the crowded breakfast, I was having a nervous breakdown and all I really wanted to do is put the casserole down and leave. Youngest was all for that (he hadn't started school at this point), and as we made our way out of the courtyard, a mom-friend stopped me to chat for a minute, which Youngest interpreted as total betrayal on my part to get him the heck out of this horrible place and back into our stinky, cold car. I mean, how dare I have an adult conversation in his presence when he is so clearly upset?
He proceeded to have a complete and total melt down. Arms flailing, he threw himself to the ground, screaming and crying that no one EVER listened to him, that he just KNEW everyone hated him and no one single person CARED about him. He was, at this point, about 3 feet away from me, laying on the ground and quickly gathering the attention of all who stood near him. It was at this moment, I looked up and realized that he was lying at the feet....almost ON TOP OF THE FEET of Steven Spielberg and Kate Capshaw. You might have heard of them. He directed and produced a little film called E.T., Star Wars and all the Indiana Jones movies among others. She is ravishing...at 8am, she looks as if she has stepped out of the pages of Vogue. They are looking at my kid with great horror, not because they can't imagine a child acting this way but because they probably can't understand why there isn't some caring, nurturing parent swooping in to save the day.
I had options. I considered them. And here is what I did.
I walked right by Youngest, looked at him, looked around at the adults who were watching him, and mouthed the words "Does anyone know who he belongs to? Is he okay? Poor thing..."
And I rounded the corner and waited for him to realize that Mommy ain't playin' no games with the tantrums. As soon as he saw that I was gone, the show was over and he came looking for me. Didn't win any Mom of the Year Awards that day, but if I'd really thought it through, I could have handed over a headshot and resume and hoped Steven would call my agent.
I just hope everyone enjoyed the casserole.
No comments:
Post a Comment