I am admittedly a Type A personality. I pretend that I "work well with others" but that's a load of crap. As far as I can tell, if there is something that needs to be done I can do it better than anyone else. It is VERY VERY VERY difficult for me to sit back and let others do what I clearly think I should be doing. But alas, in my old age, I'd like to think I'm getting better...maybe.
I spent the majority of my day yesterday supervising my oldest's "Destination Imagination" team. They were meeting at our house to put the finishing touches on their challenge/project/nightmare for the state tournament which is coming up on Saturday. Simple enough, right? Nope. Wrong, so very, very wrong. For those of you who are unfamiliar with DI, it is the type A, anal retentive, do-things-my-way parent's worst nightmare. Seriously. DI is to be 'hands-off' for parents and other adults, you can literally do NOTHING...you cannot make suggestions, you are not even supposed to TOUCH a single damn thing. It is called interference and you better believe if you try to step in, you will have an 8 year old telling you off. So I've got 5 kids in my driveway armed with a big ass cardboard box, enough newspaper to line every bird cage in America, and bottles upon bottles of Mod Podge and tempera paint...and there is not a damn thing I can do but watch the nightmare unfold.
I am that mom who gets all excited when projects come home...I instantly see visions in my head of what it will look like, which craft supply I get to bust out, and the best way to make it look like my 8 year old actually did it. Now don't get me wrong, she does do most of the work...but I will fully admit that I offer up a good deal of "advice" and have a bit of influence in how the final product turns out. Yes, I'm a teacher, shame on me. So when I'm facing 5 kids and a shit load of craft supplies and I'm not allowed to do ANYTHING???? That sucks. A lot. I'm pretty sure that in the 4 1/2 hours these kids were at my house my blood pressure shot up to unhealthy levels and I drew blood from digging my nails into my palms. Oh and if you're wondering, I DID damn near bite my own tongue off from keeping myself from speaking. Sure I did my job of keeping the kids on track, they got their stuff done (and rode every bike/scooter/vehicle in my garage, colored with sidewalk chalk, blew bubbles, jumped rope, laid on the driveway and whined, fought, bickered, argued, ran in circles, spilled an entire bottle of aforementioned Mod Podge in my driveway, fought some more, rolled eyes, played tag, chased the neighbor's cat, and finished off with a water fight) but they got their shit done. And through it all I said nothing.
I said nothing about the fact that the paint job on their box looked like it had been done by my 2 year old (who ironically DIDN'T do any painting yet still somehow ended up covered in black tempera paint) I said nothing about how they were wrapping a prop in duct tape (it looked like they had done it while drunk and blindfolded...and it took all 5 of them to accomplish it) I said nothing about a blob looking thing that someone had purposely painted on their backdrop (actually I DID say something...the words "what the hell is that?" came bursting out before I could help myself...turns out my own child had painted it...whoops) I said nothing to the little darling who kept rolling her eyes at me, mumbling under her breath, and bitching about EVERYTHING (because apparently I was supposed to have been able to control the weather that day...my bad) She made a huge stink about doing something as basic as ROLLING NEWSPAPER. Apparently it is an art and one that she 'sucks at' therefore rendering her completely unable to complete this task. Ever wanted to see if you can strangle someone using ONLY newspaper? I have...but alas, I was not even allowed to touch it. Probably for the best.
I was exhausted by the time the last child was picked up. Thankfully they were polite and well behaved (other than the nasty little eye-rolling one and the few fights I had to break up) and they were proud of what they had accomplished and piss-themselves-excited when I finally let them turn on the hose. They got their job done, they are ready for state, and I was so beyond ready for copius amounts of vodka. This is where I give props to the other mom who has done the bulk of the work for this...she has hosted these kids at her house numerous times and until now I HAD NO IDEA HOW BADLY IT F-ING SUCKED. I've always joked that she deserves a few beers...bullshit, this woman deserves a lifetime supply if not at least a keg. But that was painful. I'm not cut out for supervising projects in which I have no say and can do nothing. And I am not the least bit ashamed to admit that.