Well, tonight I stumbled into work at five minutes 'til six, eagerly awaiting a fun night of crafts, snacks, and movies with a crowd of precious little Lambs of God.
Womp womp.
There was a slight scent of disaster in the air the moment my boss pulled out a box filled with eggs and FOOD COLORING. And then-- IT COULDN'T BE--- an assortment of
LOOSE GLITTER, AHHHHH!
Aw cruddles.
The kids trickled in, some bringing their pajamas, some bringing their stuffed animals, ALL BRINGING THEIR DEVIOUS INTENTIONS.
Parents' Night Out is a particular phenomenon that happens at the YMCA every now and then. Parents drop their kids off for a few hours and then are free to go out into the world and partayyy. Meanwhile, instead of the usual chaos cluster that we have in the mornings, where the kids roam free, hitting each other with toys and pooping in their pants behind the dress-up rack, Parents' Night Out provides a new, fresh sense of failure-- the kind where all your best laid plans have gone completely awry.
Is it better to have no plans and let the disaster happen naturally while you helplessly watch? Or better to have a master-plan of chaos-prevention only to see it be stomped on gleefully by stinky toddlers?
I haven't decided yet either... but the outcome is the same. There are three basic consequences of either situation:
1. Poop: Someone's poop. Somewhere. On something. If I got paid extra every time I heard a coworker say "Do you smell poop?" I wouldn't even need this job anymore.
2. Tears: Of children, but also of staff. (Inwardly during your shift. And then maybe literally, in the car on the drive home while you reflect on the evening you had.)
3. Rage: Yes. It's inevitable.
Tonight, when I wasn't grabbing loose tins of glitter out of fat little hands, squeezing pudding out of hair, or giving death glares to my arch-nemesis (he's four and he hates my guts), I almost DID enjoy watching the chaos unfold around me like a sad, sad little house of cards getting knocked over. (By a baby. Because that's how it works at the Y.) It's honestly quite entertaining watching kids interact with each other when external factors like
LOOSE GLITTER, AHHHHH!
are involved.
There was one small victory of the evening. My aforementioned arch-nemesis stuck a plastic googly eye up his nose. Now of course I ADORE all my kids at the Y. Even the troublemakers. But there was something, an undeniable SOMETHNG I felt as I watched my coworker gawking at his nasal cavities with a flashlight. No, it couldn't be satisfaction. Absolutely not.
Well, somehow, googly eye incident aside, the evening went off without TOO many more hitches, and I found myself sitting in front of an animated movie with a cute little girl on my lap. This particular child brightens my world. She's a role model for me for sure. Tonight I told her she was pretty and she simply let out a nonchalant sigh and squeaked "Yeah I know". Homegirl ain't got no insecurities.
And then, finally, one by one, the kids (now in pajamas, devious intentions toned down to an unintentional knack for trouble) padded away down the YMCA hallway with their parents, off to their stinky cars and their stinky houses and their stinky beds. And I leave the YMCA at ten a stronger, better, more sparkly person than I was at six.
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