Recess

A hint of the past, that smell that always brings you back to recess, pulled pigtails, blunt scissors, and all That which is Grade School.

A light scent of a mixture of paste and heavily-fortified mystery meat, with a hint of warm milk. I caught it on my way through the school library to my daughter's kindergarten classroom, where I am lucky enough to volunteer twice a month (barring kidney stones, a teething baby, office meetings, and the Bends - or whatever I had, 'cuz you know, with Post-partum depression, those descents and ascents come up at you suddenly - which has kept me from the classroom for over two months).

My morning was filled with shoe-tieing, craft assembling, and helping the kids draw the correct number of ornaments on their number-comprehension worksheet Cristmas trees. But the highlight of the day as a 40-year-old Mom was the same highlight of the day when I was a five-year-old girl: Recess. Duck duck goose, shadow puppets, and tag. Cool, my co-workers refuse to play those with me. I don't know why, because darned if it isn't nice to go out on a beautiful day and be silly. Breaks here consist of coffee or cigarettes, neither of which I imbibe, so I pretty much work the day straight through. Now, if we had a rousing game of Princess and the Dragons twice a day, well, I just might enjoy work again.

There were the occassional startles, like when I heard my eldest pipe up about something Mommy said. That's always a heart-stopper, "Oh geeze, what is she going to let slip this time?" Luckily she didn't go off on a rant about the local animal control officers or Evil Lord Bush (she gave him that title, by the way), but went on about some Learning Tool I bought last night. Whew, that was close!

I missed our office "Holiday Party" for the morning fun and lunch at home with a nursing baby. I'm so glad I had a good excuse. The only thing worse than an office party with people I barely know is missing recess.