I was talking with my friend Jessica yesterday (when my laryngitis was at about a 9 instead of the seething pain and hoarseness that is about an ELEVEN right now…) and she told me an interesting story about her son, and how she deals with the administration at the elementary school.
Jessica and I were discussing M and how he was going to start kindergarten in the fall. We were swapping stories about our kids…both good and bad…and about our experiences with our kids in school. Granted, my “experience” is limited…I’ve only done two kids in preschool, so far, however I did have several different vignettes to share. So did Jessica.
We are both the same kind of mom. The one you don’t mess with. The one up the school’s butt. But also the one who wants to be involved, and who realistically understands that their kid is NOT Little Joey Perfect. My hairdresser calls those “Joey Moms.” You know… “Guess what Little Joey did…”, “Little Joey is so smart…So Cute…So fill in the blank.” So totally oblivious that he isn’t really that cute. That he also has a dull, mouth-a-gape look on his face that SCREAMS “duh!” That Little Joey is actually a total pain in the ass, and that the only one who thinks he’s cute is his Momma, who can’t stop bragging on him. THAT’S the Joey Mom. And also why I love my hairdresser Sandy.
So Jessica (who is NOT a Joey Mom) was talking about how her son was called to the Principal’s Office for an offense he was “framed” for. That’s right. I said “framed.” It seems a little girl on his school bus was hit with errant bubble gum to the hair, and since Jessica’s son was sitting behind her, she naturally assumed it was him. Never mind that the child would not hurt a fly, was not chewing bubble gum, nor has ever shown a perchance for fooley-making.
Poor A (Jessica’s son) was sent to the Principal for nothing more than an unfortunate assigned seat on the big yella’ fella’ (a.k.a the school bus.) So what do you think A told the Principal in response to the accusation?
“I’m sorry, Mr. B, I cannot speak unless my MOTHER is present…she’s kinda like my attorney.”
That’s right. Kiddo called in his lawyer his Momma. Brilliant! Because, Son, NOBODY messes with Momma. At least, not in the South. And actually, I think that is VERY good advice. Advice that I will be passing on to my own….
M and V...if you are ever sent to the Principal’s Office…you tell them you CANNOT speak until your Momma is present. And honey, I will get my heiney to that office. That’s one of the reasons I stay home for you. Because I am your advocate.
Now, that doesn’t mean I will always be the DEFENDING attorney. I am NOT a Joey Mom, and I know that sometimes you WILL deserve to be in the Principal’s Office. Sometimes you will misbehave, test the boundaries, lose your temper…Lord knows, I did. In fact, my most important job, as your representation will be as your Prosecutor. Momma needs to be in that Principal’s Office with you because Momma needs help (sometimes) being Omniscient (but NEVER needs help being Omnipotent. Do NOT test me.) A Joey Mom would wait to hear about the Principal’s Office when Little Joey got home from school…and then IMMEDIATELY call the office BLAST whoever accused her child of being anything other than perfect…whether Little Joey was in the wrong, or not.
Being a mom is an amazing responsibility. Today on the news I heard that the “salary” (imaginary, of course) for stay at home moms went up to $144,000 a year, given the entire many, multiple job titles our “employment” entails. And now I get to add “Lawyer” to my job description. Some other “creative job titles” include:
Hostage Negotiator
“V! Give M back his Lego RIGHT NOW or else NO DESSERT!!!!”
Private Dancer
Like a hooker, only smarter…Oh wait…did I just say that out loud?! But everyone dances to “Sweet Dreams” by the Eurythmics for their husband, right? Oh…sorry…TMI.
Stylist
No one rocks a plastic necklace from “Claire’s” in the mall like V…
Remedy Engineer
Cause I’m the one who doles out the Prevacid and Zyrtec…and who doesn’t love to stick “engineer” at the end to make themselves sound smart and important? That drives Big Daddy (who is an ACTUAL engineer…) BERSERK!
I have NO PROBLEM with my kids saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss the matter of the wedgie I administered to Little Joey until my MOTHER IS PRESENT,” because until they are 18, they are MY responsibility.
“If the gum doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” Oh yeah, I went there.
And if that means I am their attorney to either defend or prosecute? Well, I’d say that’s a Win-Win situation for all involved. And I'd say that I'm doing my job. The key word being "involved." I wish more parents were.
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