Story Time

Meaning, it is time for a story from me, about story time today. We hadn't been to our local library yet since moving here, so when I learned that they offered a preschool story hour, I thought it would be a good opportunity to stop and get our library card and also pretend I'm a good mom by taking my children to thoughtful, child-oriented activities like library story time instead of to Target like usual. Brooklyn was excited about the prospect and quickly got ready. She chose her own outfit, which sometimes is fine and sometimes is not. Yesterday she looked darling in a totally coordinated outfit of her own choosing. Today she wore a striped pink shirt and these really great purple pants (you all understand how I really feel when I use adjectives like "really great" preceding words like "purple pants," right? Okay, just so we're clear.) I like to pick my battles, and Brooklyn's wardrobe is usually not one of them, weather permitting. Plus we were short on time.

Then she wanted her hair braided. Yesterday she opted for a cute ponytail (she has this perfectly shaped head that makes a ponytail look awesome. I am so jealous of her head shape) that nicely complemented her well-chosen outfit. But today, obligingly, I braided her hair. All 14 strands of it. Even if I was a skilled hairstylist (you know I'm not) it wouldn't have come out looking much less scrappy than it did. No matter - we were off to the library!

So my darling child plops herself down amongst the other pre-schoolers, clearly the only one who has completely styled her own look herself today, and Troy and I sit behind her in a little circle of mothers around the group. Several minutes into story time, I look over, and to my horror behold that half of Brooklyn's arm is extending down the leg of her pants. I knew very well what was wrong - this winter weather has zapped all of our skin bone-dry, and poor Brooklyn suffers from winter eczema. I keep lotion in every room of the house but it rarely helps. That morning she had been complaining of itching EVERYWHERE. I didn't think she'd address the itchy-leg issue in public with no regard to clothing that got in the way. For a moment I was torn - if I reacted, it might only draw attention to the lovely scene, but if not, someone else could surely notice and would then look at me and wonder why I would allow this badly dressed and poorly groomed child to behave so socially-inacceptibly in public. I didn't have much time to debate with myself, however, because my reflexes are too fast. "Brooklyn!" I hissed, trying to get her attention. The mom sitting next to me, who had already observed Brooklyn's construction-paper-mitten nametag and knew who she was, turned to look at Brooklyn and burst out laughing. At least this mom immediately recognized that poor little B was suffering from dry skin, but so much for keeping that lovely sight under the radar. I reminded her calmly to please keep her hands out of her pants at all costs, and tried to re-engross myself in the penguin story. (Penguins were the story time theme of the day.)

Now, about the penguins. The story time concluded (before the craft, in which Brooklyn adeptly assembled a zillion pieces of pre-cut construction paper shapes into a perfect little penguin while I scoured the room for an example and couldn't for the life of me figure out why it had only one eye) with a film clip. The librarian explained that it was a collection of poems about penguins which had been set to music. She raved about it and told us all to check it out. "Oh, this could be cute," I thought naively. See, I was really expecting poetry. Oh, and music. And, well, penguins, in fact, but let's not get carried away. The penguins were line-drawing cartoons, the music was sung by said penguins, and the poetry... well to be fair, it did rhyme. At one point (during "Mother Penguin's Vacation") the mother penguin cartoon was singing with full vibrato, about her meal, "I think I feel a tentacle/ It's tickling my ventricle..." And my eyes went directly to the librarian up front, who was watching with a completely straight face. It nearly killed me to keep all that snark to myself. I kept looking around for someone to whom I could whisper my snide commentary, but then I realized I don't actually know these people. And plus we're here for the kids, so shut up. If Travis had been there we would have had some real fun. We watch reality TV just for the sheer pleasure of seeing who can come up with the best sarcastic remarks. I had to come home and run straight to the blog to record this day for posterity.

But first, I have to add a confession.
I have to admit that throughout story time, I caught myself sizing up the other moms in the room, strictly because of my OWN self-consciousness - my clothes, my hair, my sleep-deprived face, my interestingly-dressed children - and I found myself analyzing each face in the room to see who looked equally sleep-deprived, whose children were more raucous, whose clothes less carefully chosen. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but those were the fleeting thoughts that flew through my mind. I'm a pretty insecure mom, and I'm afraid it sometimes makes me defensive and, apparently, judgmental of others. I mentally slapped my own hand and tried to focus on penguins again, but mentally made a note to address this bad behavior in myself. More than anything I hate the constant feeling of scrutiny, that everyone around me is judging me. I know it happened a lot more on the East Coast, and although I haven't felt that here at all, I guess I've retained all the self-conscious defensiveness it sparked. But no excuses - I caught myself on the other side of the fence and realized that now I'M the judgmental one. Those moms certainly don't need that from me, and I guarantee they were not thinking the same things. They, and all of us, have bigger things on our plates. I was reminded of Mother Teresa's famous quote, "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." Here's to watching how I spend that precious time in the future.

Who knew Story Time could be so educational in so many ways?