Today my friend Heidi is going to share her story of laughter, love and being a room mother for a preschool Valentine’s Day party. I know the holiday is over, but it’s such a good story, I asked her to share it. She had to write it in her own words, because I couldn’t do it justice. Please enjoy!
Adventures of a Pre-school Room Mother
The Valentine Debacle of 2010 all started when my name was arbitrarily plunked onto a list of room mothers (RM’s), whose responsibility it was to plan the Valentine’s Day party at my daughter’s parochial preschool.
Ok, no big deal, I think to myself, we’ll throw the kids a heart cookie, a few rounds of Heads Up 7-Up, pass out some Sponge Bob Valentine cards and we’ll call it a day, right?
Oh, but how wrong I was.
We were instructed to focus the party activities on the “religious aspect of the holiday.” Religious aspect? Valentine’s Day? Just what exactly does God have to do with candy hearts and a diaper-wearing toddler toting weapons? This is just too much.
Anyway, the Stepford Wife of the RM’s immediately took control and wasted no time in firing off an e-mail to discuss the party. You know the kind – always impeccably coiffed, brings a perfectly baked quiche for snack day and gives the teacher an iPod for Christmas. So, for a party that should have taken two e-mails to plan tops after all was said and done I had waded through no less than 16 e-mails of detailed, in-depth discussion in which one RM continually referred to it as Valentime’s Day. What should we play? Juice boxes or milk? What flavor juice box? Cookies or pretzels? We’re planning a preschool party, not the inaugural ball, people!
After much deliberation and thought provoking conversation, we finally settled on the games (I briefly thought of suggesting a rousing game of Pin the Savior to the Cross but wisely decided that might be frowned upon). It was decided that the children would color a heart picture and decorate it with “I Love Jesus” stickers (construction paper or regular paper? Pink or red? Jesus or cross stickers?) and for the main event. . . prepare yourself. . .
Jesus Bingo.
Now before I go any further, let me give a quick run down of the cast of characters so you know exactly what we’re dealing with here.
Me: Greasy hair (no time for a shower), wrinkled Rush concert t-shirt, faded jeans and store bought snacks neatly tucked into my Esprit book bag. Hey, this is a preschool party, not the prom, right? Who cares. They were just lucky I put a bra on – it was a special occasion after all.
The teacher: Cat sweatshirt ironically covered in dog hair, purple corduroy jeans, a fanny pack, a crooked banana clip in her disheveled hair and dangling ruby earrings. This chick looked like she stepped through some cosmic wormhole straight out of 1985. Listen, I’m no fashion plate myself but I’m pretty sure there’s a cut off age for sporting kittens on a sweatshirt. Like 8.
The Stepford Wife: Expensive clothes, designer shoes I’m sure – although I couldn’t tell Louboutin from Payless if my life depended on it – and her hair in a chignon. That’s right, I said chignon. She definitely doesn’t hit the Great Clips on coupon day, that’s all I’m saying.
Ryan: The kid who was screaming that his bottom hurt. This becomes important later.
Hannah: The token booger eating stinky kid (she smelled like feet) who spent the entire party harvesting yucks from her nose and eating them.
Colin: Wasted no time in informing me that he liked the smell of burps and proceeded to prove it by ripping one right in my face. He was my favorite.
Trey: Refused to take his hand out from the front of his pants because his “peanut” itched. Typical male.
My child: Beautiful, sweet smelling and perfectly behaved. Reality: Mis-matched shoes, messy pony tail and a clump of breakfast stuck to her cheek.
Back to the Debacle. . . .
It’s now Jesus Bingo time. The first kid to cover 5 in a row with candy hearts screams “Jesus!” (instead of Bingo – get it?) and wins the game. As the Stepford Wife is calling out numbers and letters, I’m walking around helping the kids. “BURRRRPP….is this a 9?” (Sorry, Colin, that’s a 6, your card is upside down) “I’ve got an O!” (No, Hannah, that’s not an O – that’s the freshly picked cornflake you just wiped on your bingo card.) After 45 minutes I begin to get bored and start fantasizing about what is in the teacher’s fanny pack. A Rubik’s cube? Peach schnapps? A taser?
After a few more minutes of the bingo nonsense with no end in sight, I took it upon myself to put an end to it. I did something despicable. Contemptible. Vile even.
I cheated.
Dear Lord in Heaven, I cheated at Jesus Bingo. In a church. At a kids party. For my own selfish purpose. It takes a special brand of jerk to cheat at Jesus Bingo. I’ll say it here and now that I’m not proud of it, but I moved one child’s candy hearts into a line and told her she had a Jesus. I’m pretty sure it’s warm where I’m going.
With Jesus Bingo now finally over, this left the kids approximately 10 minutes to decorate their papers and pass out their Valentines. Just to remind you – this is a gaggle of 3 year olds. My child can’t even find her socks in 10 minutes. The small semblance of order we had established quickly deteriorated into pure and utter chaos – screaming children running amok, I Love Jesus stickers flying about and I’m pretty sure someone got beaned with an errant banana clip. About this time we all figured out why Ryan’s bottom hurt – he went #2 in his Superman underpants (as evidenced by the lump that fell out of his pant leg). Hey, it’s not a party until someone craps themselves.
As I’m cowering in a corner, watching in horror as the calamity unfolds, I kept waiting – nay, hoping - for Ashton Kutcher to spring out of the pee wee sized bathroom and scream that I’ve been Punk’d. Since no MTV cameras were forthcoming, I did the only thing a traumatized mother could do at that moment. I snatched up my child and ran away – leaving the Stepford Wife to deal with the cat sweatshirts, gassy children, boogers and unsavory lumps on the carpet.
The moral of the story is this, my friends: If you are involuntarily volunteered for room mother duties, be busy. Or sick. Or move to another state. Most importantly, never ever cheat at Jesus Bingo. The guilt will haunt me for the rest of my days.
Thanks for listening.














