Room Mothers

I was waiting to start some laundry. The dryer was still spinning, so I couldn't transfer the wet stuff yet, but it wasn't worth going downstairs (my laundry is on the 4th floor, kitchen on the first) only to climb up again in ten minutes. So I was looking at the bookshelves. (Yes, we have bookshelves on every floor--doesn't everyone?) And I got sidetracked, which happens to me all too often.

Squeezed in between some art books and god-knows-what, I saw a spiral-bound book with a yellow cover. I pulled it out, knowing full well what it was: a cookbook, put together by the PTA of Terra Centre School, back in the 80s. I'd forgotten that I still owned a copy, and not too long ago, someone mentioned to me that that cookbook was one that they often used. Really????

I sat down in a nearby rocker (yes, we have them too) and started paging through. Apparently, I'd written an introduction for the book. Who knew? However, what was more interesting to me (even more than the recipes) were the names of the contributors and committee members.

These were people I saw every day, dropping kids off, picking them up, helping in the classrooms, doing all sorts of jobs for teachers, for the PTA, for the kids. We were room mothers, tutors, lunch moms, wrapping paper sale coordinators, substitute teachers, nurse's aides. Those were the days when I ran like hell from the minute I dropped the girls off until 2:30, when I collapsed on the sofa until they got home at 3. (I'm sure they believed I slept there all day…)

If I wasn't at school. If I wasn't baking cupcakes for some classroom event. (Am I the only room mother who always had two dozen cupcakes in the freezer, JUST IN CASE someone forgot to bring what they had promised?) If I wasn't in a meeting. If I wasn't typing the school newsletter. Or working with other room mothers to plan a class party, make little favors, figure out games, or organize class or school events like field day or Pioneer Day or the Greek Olympics.

And here they were, alive as ever in this cookbook. I doubt I'd recognize them or their children now. It's been over 30 years. Tamara and Hannah and Heather and Katie and Tim and Jeff and Brian and all the rest probably have their own kids now. Their moms are--I am sure--like me: graying and slowing down:  and playing with grandchildren. They are buying the wrapping paper, and the candy bars and the popcorn instead of organizing the sales;  applauding at field day and sitting in folding chairs instead of cross-legged on the grass. I would guess there are more nannies and fewer room mothers now, which is a sad fact, because I don't know who profited most from being room mothers--we helped the teachers and the kids, sure, but in the process, we helped each other. We learned from each other how to be moms, and our kids learned how to play and work together by watching us.

Being a stay-at-home mom is a tough job, despite what people might tell you. These people, I assure you, have never done the job they poke fun at and dismiss as boring. Thirty years after the fact, I wish I could go back and tell all these women how valuable their contributions were, and how much I learned from all of them. I was too busy, but I wish I'd done it then, when they (and I) needed it most.

But maybe we did exactly that by being there for each other. We affirmed each other with each class party, with each ice cream social, with each fundraiser. With that cookbook.

Thank you, ladies.