LARS: Mom, I forgot to tell you. I have to be at the school at 7 o’clock. It’s our Spring concert tonight.
ME: Lars! It’s six-thirty! I just walked through the door, your sister is sleeping, and your brother is going crazy!
This is how life goes at the Soleau house. We wing it.
I quickly threw some clothes Spring-concert-looking clothes at Lars, he changed really fast (because he could tell I was pissed), and off we went to his school.
Shaun stayed home because Logan had just finished purposely spilling the change he’s collecting (for kids with cancer) all over the kitchen floor, and Shaun was helping him clean it up (while Bilbo the Bulldog was trying to eat it), and Lilah was blissfully sleeping on the couch.
Since we were running late, I didn’t get a chance to find my only mom-friend at his school, so I just took any seat I could find. This seat happened to be next to some random dad, who was also came to this concert alone.
ME: Hey, is anyone sitting here?
RANDOM DAD: Just you, beautiful!
Did he just call me “beautiful”? That’s weird. Especially since I certainly wasn’t looking beautiful at all. My morning make-up was now non-existent, the frownie-line between my eyeballs was looking as if someone had been swiping credit cards across my face all day, and my hair was a frizzy mess because I had sold a truck in the rain earlier.
My thoughts were getting away from me.
Wait. Does Lars have a solo? Is that what his Music Teacher just said? Pay attention. Don’t let your ADHD get the best of you because you’re tired, and some random dad just called you “beautiful”, and now you’re feeling all self-conscious about the forwnie-line between your eyebrows.
Is Random Dad staring at me?
Stop staring at me.
Don’t look at him, don’t look, don’t look.
Crap. You looked.
To my horror, Random Dad was making kissy lips and winking at me.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY?
Just look away. Look away.
Shit! Lars does have a solo! Get up and go take his picture! Your crappy iPhone camera won’t reach that far.
Oh, Lars. I should have dressed you better. You’ve got on black pants, a navy blue shirt, your shirt collar is a mess, and your socks are white and tucked into your pant-leg.
Wow, Lars is really good at this! He has rhythm! Maybe bongo drums are his “thing”, since it certainly isn’t going to be football.
I should go sit down in my seat again. I’m probably blocking other people from seeing their kid’s solo.
Am I walking funny back to my seat? Do I walk funny?
Is Random Dad looking at me again?
Did my knee-high boot fall down? Stupid, cheap boots. It feels like it’s falling down.
STOP STARING AT ME, CREEPY DAD!
Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact…
Crap. He looks like he wants to say something. Don’t be rude. He probably wants to say Lars did a nice job.
Against my better judgement, I smiled and leaned over a little to hear him better.
RANDOM DAD: You’ve got a nice ass! I’d like to tap that ass with my…
ME: ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? THAT’S SO TERRIBLE!
*the loudest percussion song ever performed by Fourth and Fifth Graders came to a banging halt*
The entire auditorium gasped, turned around to get a good look at Lars’ mother, and then nervously began to clap their hands.
And this is why I have a blog, folks. Who else yells “ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? THAT’S SO TERRIBLE!” at the end of a song performed by children?
Shaun Soleau sucks.