I have always hated the country comedian who does the stand up act, "Here's your sign!" Ugh, blatant stupidity, I thought. Who really needs to be reminded of the redneck folks one runs into at convenience stores or chances a mishap with by shopping too late at night at Wal-Mart. As soon as his face crossed my TV, my fingers hit the remote. Unfortunately, and it's taking alot for me to admit this, I had my own "Here's your sign" moment just last week. It's not the redneck edition, it's the mother's edition, but I felt the same when I got my sign.
One of my favorite Y members had taken my whole family out to lunch and we were chatting away with him and his lady friend as the dishes were cleared from our table. The boys were making laps around the dessert bar, eyeing whatever it was they hadn't already tasted and indulging Tate in one more round of red jello. All was well, or so I thought, until the three of them rounded the corner and the blood disappeared from my face. Standing in front of our table with a Cheshire cat grin was Tanner, only to be upstaged by Tate sitting in the WHEELCHAIR (!!!!) Tanner was pushing. Tate was ecstatic and Tanner the proud brother, earning his babysitting badge. Oh, Lord, help me disappear into nothing amid this lunchtime crowd!
And there it was: Here's your sign! You know it's time to leave, lunch is definitely over, when your children highjack a wheelchair and make laps around a restaurant. Billy's eyes met mine, horror being passed back and forth. Dine and dash crossed my mind. Politeness and good manners were quickly replaced with humility and bowed heads as we grabbed bags and sippy cups and made our way to the door, stopping only to return the wheelchair from where it had been "borrowed."
Every parent knows that obtaining that title means that life is always unpredictable, that the picnic you packed all night for can be cut short by a chipped tooth on the monkey bars. That the trip to the county fair ends abruptly because someone forgot to restock the diaper bag. That the REALLY good Mexican meal you have been craving ALL DAY may never get past chips and salsa because SOMEONE didn't nap well that day. Kids change everything and now, much to my chagrin, give us our very own "signs."
Here, just a few of the "Here's Your Sign" mommy moments I've been dealt:
When the player with the jersey sporting your last name has a seat and begins playing in the dirt, here's your sign: soccer season is over!
When the recently potty-trained fan drops his drawers just minutes before the spring game and shows the booster club president what he's learned, here's your sign: Daddy will give you the play by play when he gets home.
When an otherwise well-behaved toddler can't keep his hands off a little girl's sparkly ponytail holder, here's your sign: put down that dumbbell, your workout at the gym is over.
When the circular clothes rack at your favorite boutique suddenly tips to its side, showering the floor with expensive blouses, here's your sign: You REALLY thought you could shop with little boys in tow?????
Funny, all my signs seem to pretty much point to the same thing: run, get out as fast as you can. And don't come back until you're driving a sports car that is child-seat free, and there's not a package of wet wipes in your purse.
