Secrets

My friend told me about it and I was intrigued. But then I got busy and never looked it up. Then yesterday while taking my 5 minutes to myself in the bookstore's art section (my husband was reading to the boys in the children's section) it caught my eye. Not due to the word Secret, but due to my hometown's name and zip code: Germantown, Maryland 20874 scrawled on the cover of the book. I spent most of my life in this zip code (ages 3-22, give or take the college years). In fact I only live about 30 minutes away from the house I grew up, which my parents still own and take my children to see their grandparents frequently.

So I pick up this book of secrets and thumb through. What a marvelous idea. To send an unsigned postcard to a specific address confessing you deepest secret. "What would I write?" I asked my self. "How would I decorate it?" "Would the art work coincide with the secret? " "Would anyone (horror) know it was mine?" Remember, I grew up in this zip code!

Then I start thinking of the secrets, after showing Ryan the book and he agreeing, "Yeah, that would be a fun book to get this Christmas." So on the way home, I tell him. Not my deepest darkest secret, but a little one that has been nagging me. Simply, it was uncharacteristic of me. A couple of months ago on a weekday, that I was off from daycare, but very much on with my sons, we went to McDonald's for their lunch then walked across the parking lot to the Chipolte for mine (Happy Meal boxes in hand). It was the hectic lunchtime crowd and the kids were hungry. As I approached the soft drink machine to get my lemonade the entire drink squirted all over me. I found the plastic do-hicky that had come unscrewed and after I dried off my arm re-attached it to the machine and got my drink. There were no more tables left outside on this beautiful day so we sat by the flag poll near the entrance, them with their Happy Meals and me with my meal that made me happy. They finished their lunch and started running around-chasing the stupid Chinese manufactured toy that was placed in the meal by the McDonald's Corporation (why are there always two pieces to those toys?). They were getting wild and I started shoving my soft taco down, before they actually hurt a passer-by with the flying toys. We cleaned up our spot, and approached the trash bin, when I looked at the bottom of my drink and saw another plastic do-hicky. What to do? My pre-baby, honest self wouldn't have even thought twice and walked into the restaurant, giving it to the cashier explaining their soda machine was broken and I have the one vital, missing piece to make it work. But my post-baby, tired, frustrated, mom self took over and I chucked it, with a little flourish into the trash bin. I felt guilty all the way home, but honestly, would the low-wage workers at a chain restaurant really care that I found the vital piece to the soda machine? Probably not. So there it is.....one secret.

Of course I have done far worse things, mean, hurtful things. Like the time I told David Goetz, the summer after 6th grade, to never, ever, ever call me again! That was a little harsh. But, I was learning. And hopefully there are some good things that I have done in secret, like returning items to the rack in clothing stores, or putting away someone else's grocery cart, just because somebody should do it.

And there are so many more secrets that I can't and won't print here....I am saving those for my postcard. Now what should it say?

Moms and Dads at the Park

I took the children to the city park today and observed an unusual group: three stay-at-home dads and their offspring. Of course the park was filled with the usual other moms which included, the frazzled mother, the fit bod work-out all the time mom, a hot mom or two and an overweight mom. I sat down to watch my group and was seated not far from men….I didn’t mean to eaves-drop, it just happened. They began talking about what percentile their children were in for weight and height and then the topics changed to ADHD. One of the men was new to the group so I assumed this was all preliminary, get-to-know you talk, before moving into “man talk”. So as I was listening to the three men behind me, I kept expecting the conversation to move to different topics. During my thirty minutes at the park, the closest I heard the conversation diverge from parenting was when one mentioned re-doing his kitchen. I was amused when one of the father said to his daughter, “Go play, there are a ton of kids here and you are with me all day!” How many times have I voiced that to my own children or heard another exasperated mom say that?

This came two days after I spent a morning at my local park where I know the faces of the moms and kids. I am not one to engage people in a conversation a lot especially this particular group, simply because I know where it will go. The topics for the day were: food allergies, preschool admissions, and potty training….STIMULATING. I turned to my one friend that I have made through park visits and told her about my latest photography project of a shooting a favorite musician at a night club.

The question I have for myself and all the other park moms and dads (and the parents on my street too for that matter), is; "How long do we have to talk shop, and isn’t there something more to our lives than our kids?" I guess, being Thursday with a crying daycare baby on my lap (really!) I feel these moments more intensely. Also, maybe I was only cut out for this stay-at-home mom gig for a particular period of time. I know when it is over I will miss it, but until then, can’t we all just talk about something other than what size diaper you kid wears?

September 18, 2008