Sometimes it’s a wonder that I’m still alive. That I haven’t guilted myself into the ground. Three months ago ONE and I received an evite to “Rock the Mall,” a Girl Scout event where troops from around the country would gather together to sing songs on the National Mall in celebration of the organization’s 100th anniversary. Hmmmm…I’d rather shoot myself.
But I hadn’t been able to involve myself in Daisies this year because the gatherings were on a night when my husband wasn’t home. And the guilt of being somewhat relieved about missing the meetings caused me to sign up for “Rock the Mall.” It was a Saturday event, and only a metro ride away. Plus it would be something ONE and I could do together, just the two of us.
The day arrived, and as it turned out, I had to bring TWO.
9:01 – I checked the weather. It was going to be a 90 degree day.
10:13 – The other moms looked surprised to see TWO with us. “You’re brave,” someone commented. “No,” I thought. “I’m an idiot.”
10:30 – A packed metro train arrived. We pushed on. The door closed on my backpack and didn’t reopen. ONE gasped. TWO started to cry. A nearby man helped me get my bag inside the train. Another gasp. This time it was a mother. Turns out I stepped between she and her 7YO daughter while trying to keep my family together. Her daughter was on the platform. The train left without her.
10:33 – The mother got off at the next stop.
10:35 – The train picked up more passengers than it could handle. There was literally no where to move. TWO is like me. Introverted and claustrophobic. She couldn’t handle it. So I picked her up and realized that I’d be holding her for the rest of the day.
10:37 – “I wish I’d known,” another mom yelled over the din. “You could’ve left her at our house. My husband was looking for something to keep our 4YO busy this morning.” I smiled, feeling a muscle tear in my arm.
10:50 – We finally arrived at the Smithsonian stop. So did several hundred of our closest friends. It was very possible that we wouldn’t make it out in time for the sing-a-long at 1pm.
11:14 – We got out and walked approximately 20 steps when TWO cried, “It feels like the desert out here!” I must have put her down at some point, because I had to pick her up again.
11:30 – We made it to the National Mall. There was a line for the sidewalk.
11:35 – The mother and daughter who had been separated were reunited.
11:41 – TWO cried out, “Look, Mama! It’s a circus!” It’s not a circus. The only clown there is me. (More tears.)
11:45 – There was an estimated 250,000 people in attendance; more manners than DC has ever boasted before.
11:49 – ONE took my hand and whispered, “Mama? I don’t care about singing the songs. Can we leave, please? This is the worst.” My heart soared. Really? But then I worried she was saying it because of me. Maybe she could sense how much I wanted to die. “Let’s just give it a few more minutes, Pea. Then we can leave.”
11:52 – Just as I turned to make our good-byes, ONE received her first “swap.” A handmade token from a Girl Scout in another troop. We looked up. The Mall was covered in “swap” opportunities. I hoped that since we didn’t make any that no one will give us any. But no. Someone even gave us a grocery bag to collect them. Again with the politeness. It was like trick-or-treating for sunstroke. Shoot me.
12:12 – We sat down to eat. A man on the table cloth next to us may or may not have been alive.
12:27 – There were 1 hour lines everywhere. 1 hour to enter a tent and make a bracelet. 1 hour to buy a water. 1 hour to use the Johnny-on-the-Spot. The idea of taking my girls in one of those inspired me to promote dehydration.
12:35 – More whining. We could sing from the air-conditioned train. It was time to GO.
12:55 – We were shoulder-to-shoulder trying to get out. People were everywhere. There were finally too many of them to form lines. I couldn’t find TWO. What color was she wearing? How had I done her hair? Who would I tell this to? TWO reappeared. I picked her up. The singing started. Or maybe I was hallucinating.
1:40 – We were finally back on the metro. I closed my eyes as ONE picked through her Swaps. She poked my arm. “I have the best idea for a swap we can make for the encampment in September!”
Encampment. Riiiiiiiiight. I signed up for that during a moment of guilt a few weeks before. Oh well, it couldn’t be worse than this. And we had at least three months before I really needed to think about it…
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{ 15 comments }
At least September will be slightly cooler? Good luck at the entrapment! (I’m still not over the mom & daughter being separated on the metro. I’d die. DIE.)
Entrapment. Yes. Perfect word. ((sigh))
Holy moly. I don’t even know what I’d do if we got separated. I’mbuying my son a cellphone right now in fear we may ever be on a metro ever. What is an entrapment? It even sounds sinister and evil! My inner introvert is dying for you!
Ha! And my inner introvert is denying it. :)
I narrowly avoided going to this… and felt guilty about it ’til I read this post. ;)
I’m jealous that you missed it. (Especially since my daughter has already forgotten the whole event and everything that surrounded it. So all that glory I felt I deserved for going? Long forgotten as well…)
I think I’d rather have an enema than spend a day the way you did.
Yeah, me too.
(Better yet? Down at the pool from 4-5. )
That really is something. I mean it. I am in love with the pic of the possibly dead man on the tablecloth. LOVE.
You are SUCH a great mom!
The pic of the “dead” guy made me laugh out loud!!!
I have been there… where a bus is pulling away with my child on board… NOT a good feeling! :(
For a moment I felt all good – see, this is why not to make any choices out of guilt – and then I looked up at my training packet. Fool that I am, I signed on to lead a troop.
Oh, Kate. You brave, brave woman.
At least the Sing-a-long was a once in a hundred years kind of deal.
Oh, I am so glad to hear someone else complaining about “once-in-a-lifetime”, crowded, unshaded events. They are “once-in-a-lifetime” for a reason, people. Especially when you are taking kids to them.
Trick-or-treating for sunstroke. Well played, CEK.
*crawls back under rock*
My girlfriend (a country bumpkin if there ever was one) took her two little girls to Rock the Mall. I received a panicked, all caps, no punctuation text from her right around the time you were trick-or-treating for sunstroke. It read, “OH MY GOD THIS PLACE IS A NIGHTMARE I’M NEVER LEAVING HOME AGAIN THERE ARE 400 MILLION PEOPLE HERE” I wonder if the planners of this really thought past “Let’s get a whole buttload of Girl Scouts together in the dead of summer, unleash them on an unshaded mall, and force them to sing cheerful songs.”