Back to School with Ruby

Photo Credit: Photography by Angela Gross

“So were you planning on taking our pics this morning or what?” Laynie drops as I fly down Park Road trying to make it to the high school on time to let the older two out of the van. I jolt my arm at the reminder and spill my entire cup of coffee down my right arm and all over flower dress circa 1998 which has made it back in.

            “Shit!” I can’t help myself from letting it fly out.

            “Oh, I’m sorry I thought we weren’t saying that anymore, Mother, or do you get play by a different set of rules.” Andi pipes up from the passenger seat like an attorney during cross examination.

            “So, is the S-word back on the table, Mommy? Can I say shit too?” Austin chimes in from the third row as he shouts over his iPad and the radio.

            James laughs uncontrollably, “Just snapped that!”

            The minions are restless and anxious and late without 1st day of school pictures but thank the good Lord James Snap-chatted it!

            My arm still burning, while they now scream at each other. I have to raise my decibel twelve octaves to gain their attention. “Hey! That’s enough! Shut it down now!”

            The grumbles remain present, but the volume level lowered so now I have their attention. I must act fast before I lose my audience.

            “Okay. Shit is not on the table. I mean, no one can say the S-word. It was an accident, it slipped.”

            Right as the words leave my mouth, Counselor Andi, raises her hand to object and I cut her off before she has a chance.

            “And no, you do not get to make that mistake and get away with it. Use Sugar-foot or shenanigans but no S-word. Consequences still remain in place for those who do. Also, I know this morning has been a bit of SHENANIGANS, but I love you all and hope you have great first days back. Now this next red light I want everyone to squeeze in for a quick selfie. Andi get ready to take it.”

            The minions listen and grumbles cease. We have a moment of peace and the previous years of first days roll through my mind like a slide show when my van had more car seats than backpacks, when there were more tears than laughter, pigtails instead of iphones, nursery rhymes instead of Lil Nas X and Billy Ray Cyrus. It still amazes me how quickly I can go from psychotic to nostalgic with these four humans. Each year brings new challenges along with exciting joys. I try to stay in the moment and take mindful snapshots to hold in my heart. Those pictures are laced with emotion, and outweigh the ones from my FaceBook TimeHop. Clearly, I feel this way because I can’t remember to take first day of school pictures to post to Facebook for TimeHop to bring up later.

            I slowly creep toward the red light to give Andi plenty of time to snap the photo of our crew. Everyone smiles on the first attempt and with Andi’s approval and sends it to me, “its post-able, Mom.”

            I open my phone and glance at my sweet baby angels while I add this memory to my mental social media account. Lost in the moment then startled back to reality by a long, loud honk from the car behind us. I drop my phone and look in the rear-view to see none other than Kitty Jones in her bright and shinny Lexus SUV throwing her hands up to illustrate her annoyance with me. Before I can get moving down the road, Kitty whips around me and shakes her head as she drives by. Now, mind you, Kitty has twin boys in Laynie’s grade. They don’t have to be at school for another 45 minutes. I am still trying to get my high schoolers there on time and she is frustrated with me not moving fast enough? I can’t even.

            “She’s a freak.” Laynie continues to read while commenting on the situation. I don’t correct her. “And so are her sons.” She persists.

            “Okay, Laynie, that’s enough.” She tried me so I drew the line.

            “A spade is a spade, Mom. Bow ties to middle school? Mom still lays out matching outfits? That’s a problem.”

            Well, she had a point. “Still Laynie, name calling isn’t cool. Maybe you should just be grateful for a mother who lets you express yourself and your individuality.”

            She looks up from her book with her famous side-smile, “of course I am, Mom.”

            I give her a wink as we pull in on two wheels to the high school, barely enough time to come to a complete stop for James and Andi to jump out.

            In one swift motion of gathering her things, Andi barks out orders from her shotgun seat. “Littles, have a great first day. Laynie, don’t contradict Mr. Tolson until after your first paper is returned. He will hold it against you and you need written evidence of your intelligence. Austin, do not cuss at anyone today and hold the fart jokes until week two of school. Got it?”

            In unison, “Got it” Laynie and Austin reply.

            “Hey, don’t forget me.” I am holding my arms out for a hug. She pauses and I watch the thought cross her mind of getting out without hugging me goodbye. I feel the tears swell in my eyes, but even with the annoyed eye-roll Andi leans over, kisses me and whispers, “I love you, Mom.”

            “Love you too, sweet girl. Have a great first day.”

            James leans up from behind my seat, kisses and hugs me with no hesitation. “Love you, Mom, don’t get bored without me.” He laughs while he slides he sunglasses on and hops out of the van.  James has said that to me since his first day of pre-school. No tears. No problems. Just James.

            “Love you, baby, enjoy your day.”  

            There is no time for reminiscing. I have 22 minutes to get the littles dropped off and traffic is a nightmare over there. New construction provides too many people on a two lane road and an increase of road rage. I sit as I watch two light changes and not a single car move.

            “This is insane. I can see the school and yet I can’t physically get you all there because of this traffic.” I feel my blood boiling, but I try to remain calm. It’s the first day. They are trying to figure out everything. It’s fine. My mental mantra continues to soothe my discontent. Then I see it.

            “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me”, slithers out of my mouth like a villainous monster. The combination of road rage and infuriation run through my veins and my control floats right though my fingers off to a land, never to be heard from again. I spot Kitty Jones with her matching twins standing in front of the school sign with apple-shaped chalkboards posing for what I can only assume is their first day of school pictures. She had the nerve to honk at me and drive like a lunatic just to get to school early enough to capture her precious, picture-perfect moment while I am still sitting in this never-ending traffic jam. I just lose it.

            HOOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKKK

            I lay on the horn and let out a scream for what felt like ten minutes but was actually more like ten seconds. It was such a release and I am out of breath. Laynie and Austin look at me speechless. I watched Kitty drop her phone, while her boys laughed. As she tries to gather herself, Kitty looked around searching for the source of what startled her, then we meet eyes. She cocks her head to the side, puts her arm on her hip, and shakes her head in a disapproving rhythm.

            I just roll down the window and wave, “Hey girl! Hope you all have a great year.”

            My smile warms my face with pride. The audience of back to school traffic was no concern of mine anymore. The van-selfie or the chalk-board-snap-shot. It doesn’t matter. The first day of school had come for us all. Let the games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor. (Wait…that was a different set of games). It was as if the gates of heaven opened up and cars started moving.

Layine asks “feel better?”

            “Yes, I do.”

Pool Time with Ruby

SPF 75, towels, goggles, pool bag and rolling cooler are all shoved in the back of the van as I slam the hatchback door closed. Ugh! I have been dreading this since the initial mention of it in on the FaceBook page for Austin’s second grade class. “Back to School Bash Pool Party.” This is the cover story on the invitation, but what it really means is “Adult Cocktail Party with Bikinis Where Children Just Happen to be Present.” Your child is merely your admission ticket for this wing-ding.

                As we pull into the gated-community on the south side of town, I tell the guard we are here for the pool party. He looks a me like I am in my tangerine jumpsuit, and begrudgingly lifts the candy-stripped lever to allow our entrance into real-estate heaven. Houses with columns of stone reaching into the sky with lawns manicured by artists to construct the riches shade of green available.

                Stephanie Mahalo was hosting this soiree, which she has done for her other 3 children before they enter the 2nd grade and who happen to be in my other three children’s classes. This is not my first rodeo, but it doesn’t mean the rodeo gets any more comfortable as time goes on. And at this particular rodeo for extra punishment, my “WC” (women’s cycle) as it is endearingly referred to in my family has come right on time for full bloating to be in effect.

                As the van goes into park, Austin is off and running before I can speak his name. I gather all the things necessary for a day at the pool and waddle my way to the Clubhouse. The automatic doors open to the gorgeous tropical, floral grotto created in the middle of this beautiful neighborhood. Already dripping with sweat, I make my way toward an open umbrella in search of some shade, when I am spotted by Stephanie waving at my like only a beauty queen would.

                “Hey girl! How was your summer, Ruby? I thought I saw Austin running around a few minutes ago.”

                “Yeah, he made his way in. Summer was great. Too fast as usual.” The typical small talk continues as I set up camp for the day.

                “Don’t I know it! We just got back from Cabo last week doing mission work and now it’s time for school supply shopping. We blinked and summer was over.”

                I am unaware of the many opportunities for mission work in Cabo, but who am I to judge. I continue to unpack my gear for the day and pull out a taco dip and chips from my bag to donate to the party. “I brought this to munch on. Pool snacks, right?”

                Stephanie looks at the dish I present her as if it was a tub of warm lard. “Oh. Um. Yes, pool munchies, but I made sure the kids had plenty of gluten-free, organic snacks. You know Matilda is allergic.”

                “Well maybe the adults can munch on the dip then. It has fat free sour cream in it.” I smile as I continue to hold my calorie-filled offering.

                Even more horrified she glares at my gluten-filled toxic dip and responds “okay” then disappears with my dish. I would have been better off to keep it for myself.

                As I scan the party, women are in full-on pool outfits, not swimsuits. Jewelry sets to match their large brimmed hats with sheer cover ups that do anything but. Designer sunglasses with heels where flip-flops should be. Hair, nails and make-up done with no intent on ever seeing any water.

                Abby, a ginger and one of the few moms like me who afforded comfort over style for the pool, made her way over to share the shade with my ivory skin. “What’s up, Lady? I see you sneaking over here all alone avoiding everyone.”

                “I’m not avoiding. I’m protecting my skin against the UV rays and if that also protects me from the mob, well then that is a bonus.”

                We both laugh.

                “I think some of them plan their entire summer around this. What about you, Ruby?” Abby hands me a Sam Adams from her cooler.

                “If there was a way around this, I would have found it. Hell, I even got my WC, I mean my period today. I would gladly have stayed home and out of a bathing suit but Austin was excited to see his buddies and it’s good for them to see each other to get ready for the new year.”

                “Oh damn!” Abby shudders at the thought. “The things we do for our children, am I right?”

                “That you are, Abby!” We cheers our beers and enjoy our view from the shade a little while longer until Austin runs up shaking around like a wet dog to get us both soaked. On a typical day, I would be annoyed but today it is as hot as a 90’s boy band and I am melting even in the shade.

                “Come on, Mommy, please get in and play with me! Jump in with me, PLEASE!”

                Oh this sweet baby has no idea the weight of this request. There are surgically enhanced body parts as far as the eye can see with perfectly sprayed tans and hair extensions that Indiana Jones could swing from. Austin’s not-yet-forty-year-old momma (Me) has her one-piece mom-suit with extra support up top with a water-proof bonnet to keep the sun out of her eyes and hair out of her face, extra large sunglasses to mask the lack of make-up with a cover up the size of a moo-moo.

                But, how could I say no to my baby boy who could care less what I have on and more about my Marco Polo skills in the water. So, I throw caution to the wind along with my enormous cover up and Mrs. Ruby Errore takes the walk toward the diving board.

                I strip myself of all my armor. My hat comes off and lets my greasy-haven’t-washed-in-two-days-hair show. My sunglasses stay on the table to reveal the not covered up bags under my eyes. I adjust my “slimming” elastic material on my one-piece which inevitably hugs all the wrong places on my WC-bloated body. Like a woman being led down the Green Mile, I do not look to the side, but I can see the heads turning as I make my way. It feels like I am in slow motion, so I decide to strut to the driving board and I cannon ball in the pool to 7 year old boy cheers with pride in my step and a smile on my face.

                I spend the next hour kicking ass in Marco Polo with the entire 2nd grade class laughing and weightlessly jumping around in a really nice pool. Abby joined the game about halfway in, but she was the only other adult who got into the water. I could feel my delicate skin getting warm so I got out to dry off and reapply the SPF. When I did, Stephanie came over to the shade where my camp was set up.

                “Well, you are the hit of the party, Ruby!”

                I wrap the towel around me and replace the armor on my face (my sunglasses). “Oh how so?”

                “I mean jumping in the pool and playing with all the kids? That takes some guts.”

                As she usually does, Stephanie’s passive aggressive nature can’t help itself and I know where this is going. I have a choice on how I am going to react. And as she stands there with her martini glass, in her string bikini that may fall off her enhanced body parts if it ever came in contact with water, and her shear cover-up that covers nothing with her bright pink lip-stick on her filled up lips and she smiles as she lets slither out “I mean I would never be as brave as you to walk around in just my suit, not to mention get in the water. Bravo to you.”

                I want to revert to the days when many of my sentences started with “Bitch, you know what…” however I vote against that approach today and reply with as much passive aggressiveness as I can muster up. “Oh thanks, Stephanie. I wouldn’t either if I were you.”

                Stephanie’s face is frozen with disbelief from my response. She silently turns on her pool heels and walks over to a group of moms watching our interaction from across the pool.

                I sat down finished my beer from earlier with the most satisfaction I could imagine, until later on our way home. From the back seat of the van my baby boy yells, “hey mom!”

                “What’s up, buddy?”

                “You were a Rockstar today! All friends said they wished you were their mom. I told them too bad suckers, she’s mine!”

                With a smile on my face and tear in my eye, “yes I am buddy!”