A few days
ago I took my kids to NYC to shove some culture down their throats. I know it sounds crass to say it that way but
that would be their interpretation. I
don’t know if it’s everyone’s kids or just mine but taking them to a museum is
evidence (to them) of my cruelty. They
would rather sit at home on their butts while their muscles and brains
wither… Knowing this, I gave them a few
days to mentally bulk up. I spoke in
short sentences so they could understand despite their mental summer-slide: “We
are going to the City on Friday. We are
going to MOMA. We are going to see all
different kids of art. We ARE doing
this.”
So we
headed out on Friday morning with minimal complaining. I guess they had mentally braced themselves.
(And were looking forward to meeting up with Dad at the end of the day.) I was feeling hopeful! Everything would be great!
The train
ride in reinforced all those great feelings.
A man boarded the train after us and sat across the aisle after a wary
glance- I guess he wanted to read his paper in peace. But my children were delightful. My oldest read and my two younger ones were
chatting sweetly and practicing sign language they had learned from a
book. I swelled with pride. “Look how wonderful they are!” I mentally told the
man-of-the-wary-glance. “I must be a
wonderful mother!”
And it got
even better! He asked if they were all
mine and then said they were great. Duh,
of course they are! (Well, at that particular moment…) Rising to the occasion, the two youngers
asked for multiplication problems. I
started throwing out problems and they were getting them (almost) all
correct. They wary-man even joined in
throwing a few math problems their way.
When we exited the train he told us to have a great time. (And I am certain that he regaled his officemates
with a tale of the most delightful children he had ever seen!)
I exited
the train with maternal afterglow. It
was one of those wonderful parenting moments that you want to hold onto
forever. A rare moment when you believe you’re
doing a great job. (As opposed to the
millions of other moments in a day that you are sure that you are failing them and/or doing irreparable
damage.) It was awesome. I keep going back to that wonderful
moment. Because it didn’t last…
A subway
ride later, we arrived at the museum. I
had been so sure that once they saw some funky stuff that they would have some
strong opinions and we might have some great discussions. (And they would decide that I wasn’t
torturing them.) Hahahahahha! They turned the tables and started torturing
me. The girls were whining and wanting
to eat. The boy declared he wasn’t
hungry and would not eat. (And he gets surlier and more contrary
the longer he goes without eating- meaning it was only going to go downhill from here!) I would deal with this! Today, I am super mom!
So, I
tortured them for a few hours. And, when they didn’t want to listen to me any
more, they did want to listen to the
free audio guides. Buying me just a little more time. The best quote of the day was when I asked
them what they were interested in seeing next.
My son mournfully declared, “The only art I’m interested in seeing are
benches and the exit.” He’s lucky that I
thought it was funny and was still full of good cheer. I stretched them as long as was possible
without risking a complete breakdown.
When I
finally gave up, we headed out to meet dad and return home. The complaining
eased up with the excitement of seeing dad’s cool office. We all arrived feeling groovy. On the train ride home, I was mentally
reviewing the day and was still trying to hold onto my fleeting triumph. They did grant me a few more good feelings by
not complaining over sore feet or the boring ride home. Possibly they were riding the euphoria of
culture suffered, survived and over.
(For now!) I don’t know if they retained much but we did have some
fun. And I had those few precious
moments of validation (or delusion, I don’t really care which!) that I was a
Super-Mom. Priceless!
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