Mommy 'n Me: A Story of Pole Dancing

Now I've seen everything. Today, I offered to accompany my extremely handsome significant other to a birthday party with his son. The party was for one of his son's preschool classmates who is turning five. Formerly, in the early days of our courtship, I shied away from such celebrations. All the mommies and daddies know each other, and I'm the childless (or childfree, however you look at it) gal in uncomfortable shoes in the corner. One thing that instantly lets other people know you're not a mother is wearing any kind of shoe with a heel. Pointing and laughing when kids cry is also a dead giveaway.These days, I'm the first one in the car when it's time to party kid-style. I even go shopping for the presents, and I swear that it's my mission to make sure every kid at the pre-school has the "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed" game. Sadly, it's my go-to gift when I can't think of something else. But, I don't know these kids. How would I know what they want? I just see it as my ticket in the door to the festivities.

Today's party was at "Child's Play." When I heard this, I envisioned a possessed doll on a rampage with a knife. I wanted to see that scene where that kid shoves an air hose up Chucky's nose and his head explodes. Would it happen at an indoor playground in Los Angeles? Would it occur in a pit of multi-colored balls, or, at the face-painting booth? Needless to say, while there were several precocious kids running around, there were no serial killers in overalls. Next time.

What "Child's Play" did have to offer, though, was something much more valuable than a murderous doll. It offers "Mommy 'n Me" classes. Wondering what kinds of classes a place like this could offer, I asked for a brochure, and right there on page 3: POLE FITNESS! Yes, mommy can drop off little Cody or Maya in the front and learn stripping in the back! Talk about "Business in the front, party in the back!" When I saw how much this place charges for a two-hour birthday party, I realized why they offer Pole Fitness, because mommy is gonna have to take a couple of shifts to pay this shindig off during these trying economic times.

I took a little walk to the back to check out the pole dancing facilities for myself. There it was--a mirrored room. The best part was that the poles had been covered with padding so some unsuspecting kid (or me) wouldn't run into them and maim himself. After all the crap I've talked about L.A. lately, this place kind of made me change my mind. Where else could kids get their faces hurled with balls, while mommy learns to--ahem-- keep them out of her face? (or, at least ask for a tip first). Today, I loved L.A.

Foam Fruit

I just spent the better part of the early afternoon at the Westside Pavilion watching a bunch of anklebiters play around on an oversized glazed foam rubber food frenzy. Let me explain...

There's a play area in the middle of the food court that consists of what appears to be a glossy genetically modified banana, hot dog, watermelon slice, and a spilled drink. Kids slip, climb, crawl, push, and hurl themselves off like projectiles aimed at one another. Of course this leads to plenty of whining, crying, stomping, and blaming. The most commonly overheard snippets of conversation there include: "Did you say you're sorry to your sister?" and "Well, don't do it again" and "Those aren't your shoes" and "Put the diaper back on your sister!" Occasionally: "Where's my kid?"

My favorite part is, without doubt, the tired hot dog. Too many kids crammed onto the wiener have obviously taken it's toll on our poor friend. So much that his buns have now been duct-taped into a makeshift band-aid. It's a vicious place to be if you're a frankfurter made of foam.

And, who knew that this fun isn't just for the kids? The single parents milling around seem to have created their own kind of mix and mingle. I don't ever remember seeing my mommy showing off her cleavage while bending down to adjust my diaper, or, wearing her platforms to the mall. It seems many a kiddo toddled off while daddy was watching the aforementioned. Now, I'm not usually one to stereotype, but some say men have trouble multitasking. It's hard to focus when so many fruits are being diplayed.

From 2:00-2:30, the little insects are pried off the toy food for "cleaning time." I'm not sure how one half-hour manages to attack the heaps of germs left on the toppled picnic, but as I've often heard, the bacteria we take is equal to the bacteria we make. So much fun is made and taken by all, but the Garden of Eden it ain't.

The Joys of Reflective Parenting

I'm not a parent, but I'm taking a "Reflective Parenting" class to learn more about my blended family-like situation. It's one and a half hours of biting my lip, mainly to choke back peals of laughter. I'm about the worst kind of student in these situations, because I can't be completely serious. Sarcasm rears its nasty head, and it's all I can do to hold back the smirks.
Each class starts with a meditation. We're trying to be more "mindful" and leave our stressful days behind. When directed in meditation to focus on a peaceful image, I quickly reject the instructor's idea of focusing on the sounds of children playing outside. That is not calming to me. What I hear out there is something akin to what I imagine a musical group might sound like in Lord of the Flies. Piggy, Ralph, a conch shell, a drum, a xylophone made of bones. If I listen closely, my impulses to run might kick in.

Instead, I envision myself in Palm Springs. I'm at the Tropics, sipping a Mai Tai poolside. There's some Martin Denny or Les Baxter playing in the background, and lounging beside me is a Hawaiian-Speedo clad Huell Howser circa 1988. (That's amazing!)

As the instructor leads us through the exercise, she continually reminds us to focus on our peaceful image. If our minds wander and we have a diversion, go back to the vision. Here's what my internal meditative monologue sounds like:

1. Ahhh...drinking poolside in Palm Springs. So relaxing and rewarding...

***Diversion****

2. I have papers to grade! My butt hurts! So much laundry...

3. Wait! I'm supposed to be thinking about drinking in Palm Springs. It's good for me.

***Diversion***

4. Do people know what dumbasses they look like while wearing Crocs and Uggs?!

5. Drinking!! I'm supposed to be focused on drinking!!

So, as you can see, Reflective Parenting makes me want to drink. The end.