“But can you?”
“Fine,” I repeat.
“Looks like I’m a expert negotiator (negator),” she says smugly, like a fifty-five-year-old world war leader.
* * *
Frankie falls asleep with her head in my lap fifteen minutes after laying on our blanket in Fort Greene Park. I can’t stop looking at her.
There are moments as a parent when you look at your child and you are struck speechless in awe and wonder and amazement and at the sheer deluge of love that this tiny person claws out of your dark black soul.
The dichotomies of parenthood are insane, a roller coaster of cyclical emotions. The demon spawn drives you crazy, and you need space, and you feel touched-out and overstimulated, but then you want this perfect, gorgeous human to be glued to your body forever and to spend every one of your waking moments with them because they are so much fucking fun. You’re proud of their progress yet worried about the lack of. You want to do everything for them, but you want them to learn independence. You want to give them the world, but you don’t want them to be spoiled. You want to be fun and spontaneous, but you want to set boundaries and rules. You want them to be kind and empathetic, but not a pushover.
Essentially, parenting is unconditional love and debilitating anxiety all wrapped into one wonderful, sleep-deprived package.
It’s a wonder that humankind has successfully parented for so long.
Or maybe not, considering what I’ve read to Frankie about the world leaders of World War II.
My phone dings with a text alert.
Joan
Let’s chat re: PTO pres stuff. Wanna catch you up. School starts soon
Speaking of wanting to do everything and to spend every one of your waking moments with your child and to be the most involved and present fucking parent of all time…
I’m going to be the president of the Parent Teacher Organization of Frankie’s school this upcoming school year.
I was so involved last year, during Frankie’s Pre-K year, that it was easy for me to campaign to all the neighborhood parents and win the election. I volunteered for every single parent event. I organized fundraisers and silent auctions and play dates. I wrote grants. I organized the walking school bus for kids and families on our block, which was amazing. Each day, one parent was designated the “bus driver” and was responsible for collecting all the kids from our block and walking them to school. Since there were so many of us, each parent only had to work one shift every two weeks. This is one of the few times I’m okay with help, because of the work schedule I need to keep if I want to be around to pick Frankie up at five.
Frankie waspsychedduring my campaign run, totally in her element as a future world leader slash politician. We made and colored and hung up flyers, stood outside her school meeting families, organized dinners and happy hours. We both decided that Frankie should be the one to ask if we could rent Fort Greene bar space or restaurant space for free for these PS 2 parent events, because she is adorable and who could say no to her (her words)?
Free for a quick chat now?
Frankie could actually sleep through a World War II heavy artillery battle, so I’m not worried about waking her.
My phone rings.
“Hey, Joan,” I answer.
“Hey, Dom,” Jean says.
“You ready to pass the torch?” I joke.
“You ready to take it?”
I laugh, looking down at my daughter’s face. “Psyched.”
I learn about all the logistical things I need to take care of before the school year starts, about all the new people on the PTO board that I need to contact and organize. She lets me know about some projects she was interested in starting during her tenure as PTO president but never got around to. Some of them sound great, like having the PTO pay for all the school supplies for the kids. I put her on speaker so I can start typing this all out on my phone.
“I really wanted to start the school supply purchasing for this upcoming school year, but school leadership was a mess all last school year, and I wasn’t able to coordinate with them. Principal Thomas refused to answer my emails most of the year, and then she was removed, and then AP Sanchez had to step up to the plate and run the school. She was slammed with work, and we never saw her. The superintendent’s office never found a replacement principal. I don’t know if they have yet. But I’d maybe email AP Sanchez soon to introduce yourself.”
I think about it. I really hadn’t seen anyone from administration all year.
It’s a damn shame Ollie left before Frankie started there. Frankie and I moved above Tita Gloria and Tito Ben just so she could be in the correct zone to attend his school. I wanted someone there looking out for her.
I tie up some loose ends with Jean, promise to have one more play date with her daughter Evie before the school year started in a few weeks.
