That Time I Made New Mom Friends And Wasn’t Embarrassed At All…

So this was fun.

Recently I volunteered to help with the A-B Honor Roll Ice Cream Party at my son’s high school. Don’t worry, he was fine with me being there, and even came to my “station” with some of his friends to say hi. All was good.

I’ve been volunteering with my boys’ elementary and middle schools for several years, usually helping in some way with the teacher luncheons, field trips, carnivals, etc. I’m comfortable in both of those schools and have several mom/dad friends in each school, so when I attend the activities it’s fun and relaxed.

My oldest son is a freshman, so this is our first year at his high school. I’ve helped with a couple events so far, just dipping my toe in the new high school pool. And everyone I’ve met has been wonderful and welcoming.

Still, no matter how old I get, I always walk into a new situation with butterflies. It’s that “what will they think of me?” issue most of us carry around. Yes, I’m aware of every motivational quote out there saying we have to love ourselves and not care what others think. I know, I know. I’m getting there.

I walked into the ice cream party looking for the ultra nice woman I’d met at an event in December. She was in charge of that event and had shown me where to go, how to set up, etc., and then hugged me and thanked me before I left. So sweet! But, nope, she wasn’t at this one. Ughhh. She was my comfort zone mom.

I met several other moms there who were all extremely nice (and one who I’ve known for awhile yay!), and soon we were laughing about mothering teenagers and helping each other pour rainbow sprinkles and M&M’s into numerous bowls along the toppings tables.

We started scooping the ice cream a few minutes before the first lunch bell rang so the kids could just grab a bowl and move quickly to the other tables to add their toppings. A good plan.

And then we hit a little snag. The tubs of ice cream had been in the deep freezer in the cafeteria, and one of the wonderful cafeteria workers had taken several out to soften so it would be easier for us to scoop. It was perfect. But once we’d gone through the first 6 tubs or so, the scooping became a lot more difficult.

Some of the tubs hadn’t had enough time to defrost and were still ridiculously hard. While I was trying to scoop as fast as I could, and chuckling at my surprising lack of arm power (I plank for minutes at a time, why couldn’t I scoop this freakin ice cream?!), other moms were putting some of the tubs in the microwave, under warm running water, even on a cart outside in the sun to try to soften them.

The kids were all so patient as we frantically tried everything we could to get some ice cream in their bowls before the bell rang for them to go to class. High fives to the teenagers who tend to get a bad rap from adults but were actually sweet and understanding while the adults were in panic mode.

When everyone had been served, we breathed a sigh of relief and laughed about the beautiful, organized event turned messy craziness. And it was a mess. We had been working fast and furious and had ended up with ice cream on our shirts, our pants, the floor, and even in my hair. I remember wiping some off my arm and one ear during the cleanup.

After we’d finished, I said goodbye to the sweet new mamas I’d met, and made my way to the front office to check out. I chatted for a bit with the office clerk and some of the other moms before heading to my car.

I was smiling and so proud of myself for going to the event when I was nervous, for meeting new moms, and for making it through the ice cream debacle. (My arms were sore for hours!)

And then I got in my car and looked in the visor mirror.

There, under both nostrils, were two stripes of some kind of dried liquid. Oh. No. No. No.

Had I just talked to all those people, clearly within their personal space range, with two streams of dried snot on my face? Am I now old enough to NOT FEEL snot coming out of my nose? Is this where we are now? Why had no one handed me a tissue? Or was this ice cream? It had splattered on my clothes and hair and ear and arm, it could have landed on my face and I was so cold and so deep in scooping mode that I didn’t notice. Yes, let’s go with that. It was ice cream. Definitely ice cream.

I do remember wiping my hair out of my face with my forearm as we cleaned up. The ice cream could have been on my hair and swiped across my face. Hmm. That’s possible, right?

Yea, I’m preeeetty sure it looked like dried white snot to the numerous people I had just met.

See? No reason to be anxious going in to new situations. First impressions are fun. Ice cream is fun. Nervous laughter is fun.

Sitting in your car convincing yourself that you do have control of your bodily fluids and you just couldn’t feel the ICE CREAM above your lips because of the cold weather is fun. 🍨

Love (and wipe your face) more,

Dana