Just have to drop in to tell you, I was at an event last week — you know the kind, where your kid signs up for some after school activity, and you thoughtlessly agree, thinking, WHAT HARM COULD LEARNING KAZOO POSSIBLY DO?
Only to find out a few weeks into it that A) Your kid LOVES Kazoo (nice, right?) But also, B) there’s a once-a-month KAZOO CONCERT,
held from the hours of 5-7 pm,
on a school night,
two towns over,
and, in case you missed those hours – right in the middle of dinner.
Anyway, I was standing outside a rented church hall reception area, waiting for all the Kazooers inside to go through a couple practice (?!?!) rounds before allowing parents inside to watch the performance.
Really, I’m proud of the standing part, because it proves I restrained myself from falling to the floor and flailing my arms and legs, screaming WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? I PAY FOR MY KID TO KAZOO, NOT TO BE HELD HOSTAGE ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT!
Like all moms, I’m also a multitasker. So in the midst of tantrum containment, I was also vacillating between strategies to get my kid to quit Kazoo, and mentally composing a strongly worded letter to the Kazoo teacher about how a 2 hour performance one month into Kazoo club is really so insane she should possibly seek medical assistance.
As I plotted, two mothers who knew me spotted me in the crowd. This is probably an ordinary occurrence for many of you. But I am a hobbit, a recluse, and for the majority of my life, haven’t lived in the same place long enough for anyone to recognize me in a crowd and come over, ever.
But over these two nice other moms did come. And as they chatted me up, it dawned on me that I have, in fact, been living in this town now for 15 years, which is nearly three times as long as I’ve ever lived anywhere.
And, despite my devastating lack of social skills, I’d managed to know these two women since the times of Mommy & Me, and could actually remember one of their names, and one of their children’s names (but sadly, not the names of a mother-child pair. Partial credit only!)
To my further amazement, because I was so distracted with my pissed off letter to Kazooland, I was halfway through a 10 minute Small Talk interaction before I realized HOLY SHIT, I was actually having a sociable conversation about casual kazoo related bullshit, like any other mother with some reasonable level of social skills.
This is not amazing to you. But I tell you, if you knew me IRL, it would be nearly as impressive as those Youtubes of dogs that say “I Love you!”. Or like this Beluga whale, pretending to talk human.
(Which, I shared the audio recording on twitter a week ago, and STILL can’t stop laughing. I’m Huuman, durdy-durr-dur! And then the divisive snort at the end. Perfectly encapsulates my feelings of how I think I’m fooling everyone with my own human talk amongst those two mothers in front of the Chapel of Kazoo.)
But the WORST: mid-sentence, I realized I was actually winging a reasonable casual conversation. You know that look kids get when they’re learning to ride a bike? And that moment they realize they are DOING IT?!? and HOLY SHIT?!?! And you know before it happens that they are going to fall on their asses and road rash the hell out of themselves because they cannot disengage from the HOLY SHIT going on in their head, even enough to put their leg down and save themselves?
Yeah, I made that face in the middle of my grown up conversation. Like, eyes growing huge as I spoke about Halloween events and local weather. I cannot emphasize this enough, like: huge eyes, growing huger, and then my mouth falling open slightly, and then eyeballs going from side to side, full on, ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT TOO!?!
At which point conversation dwindled, and they stared at me. And then I said, “I’ve got to go now.” And flat out motherfucking walked away.
But the worst/best part of all? I could tell by their baffled faces I’d totally dropped off the bottom of their sliding scale of social normality. But on my scale? THE WHOLE THING TECHNICALLY COUNTS AS WINNING.
PS: Ever been to a kazoo concert? Your answer is determined by whether you have displeased your god.