Dear PTA President,
I know you already have a pretty full plate with your career, taking care of your family and home while also planning the book fair, the fall carnival, Halloween parties, the coupon book fundraiser as well as the school clean-up project, but I have a grave concern that I hope you can assist with.
First, sorry about my cliché usage of ‘full-plate.’ I usually steer clear of that saying. A full plate. It sounds accusatory, like getting caught in the buffet line for the fifth time. Not that that has ever happened to me. Or to you! You always look great. I saw you at yoga the other day; you didn’t see me, I take the spot in the back so no one can hear me swear during chaturanga. By the way, your ‘lifted half crow’ was a thing of beauty. I dislocated my shoulder on that one and made up a new pose: ‘fetal position of agony.’ But I digress.
I was recently informed that I am The Head Room Mom for my daughter’s class (I’m not sure if it needs to be capitalized but I want to show respect for the title). It is a position I accept with honor and I want you to know that I will not be irresponsible with the power laid before me. I know I am now part of a heritage of amazing Head Room Moms such as, Mom who crafted everything herself and made Pinterest look like a chump, Mom who worked for a major pet store and got each child in the class a puppy, and Mom who baked like a professional chef then lost it during the Valentine’s Day party and threw cake at the cardboard Cupid; (I know we usually don’t speak of her, but that red velvet cake she made was delicious. I hear she’s looking forward to baking again, once her therapist allows her around sharp objects.)
I can assure you I will make you proud as The Head Room Mom. I have already started planning an Arbor Day celebration that will surpass any other Arbor Day celebration you have seen. I want to incorporate goats into this party somehow. I did a quick poll of the kids in my neighborhood and the results were unanimous: kids love goats. Of course I will need the form to get permission to bring goats into the classroom. Also, do you know where I can obtain six or seven medium-sized goats?
I apologize; I am getting caught up in the pageantry that goes along with being The Head Room Mom. My concern is that the only reason I am The Head Room Mom is because I put my name on the list first. You see, I am a very competitive person; I thought there would be some kind of election process or a challenge of some kind to prove who was truly worthy of this position. Perhaps a foot race or a yodeling contest would be a good gauge of qualifications? I don’t need the contest to be anything flashy, like an origami cage match, but a game of croquet would filter out the dregs quite nicely. I would prefer to stay away from challenges that include math of any kind as I have a condition known as “I failed college algebra three times and now I vomit at the sight of any numbers larger than my shoe size.” It’s rare but serious.
Now that I think of it, I guess I did earn this position with my impeccable gift of promptness. I was the first to write my name on the list. That’s just like winning a race. I’m always early for everything. My husband says it’s off-putting when I arrive to a party thirty minutes early but I think it shows my excitement and dedication to the hostess. Sometimes I just circle the block sixty or seventy times, but that tends to make me dizzy and I walk into the party like I have already been drinking. Now I just knock on the hostess’ door early and offer to do any last minute cleaning.
I am very happy to have won this distinction and I will perform my duties with honor and as little sarcasm as I can manage.
The New Head Room Mom