Gimme a P, gimme a T, gimme an AAAAA!

The transformation from "irresponsible Heather" to "active, involved mother" is now complete--I hit the final milestone last night when I attended my first-ever PTA meeting.

It was everything I thought it would be--a library full of moms who took this stuff very seriously. They were friendly, welcoming me in, and they were right on task--one woman even rang a bell every time somebody strayed too far from the topic at hand. (Man, I wish I had a bell like that at work!)

We reviewed the budgets from last year and for this year, and all the coming events and fundraisers. We discussed the priorities for this year (academic enrichment programs and 5th grade camper scholarships), and how to fund them. They had their own lingo, and I felt like people must feel when I start spouting off diabetes terms--a little glazed over, like "I'm not sure what you're saying, but you sound pretty smart."

It was all over my head, but I felt happy to be included. I listened to the carefully-worded phrases encouraging us to pass each motion, and I mumbled "Aye" every time they said, "Those in favor, say 'Aye.'" (And I resisted the impulse to shout "Nay!" just to shake things up a little.)

This being the first meeting of the year, it ran a little long, and after 90 minutes of sitting in an uncomfortable little wooden chair, I was glad to be dismissed. (OK, no one actually said, "You're dismissed," but that's how it feels when you're in school, student or not.) I felt sorry for Mark, who sits in a similar chair all day long. I sit all day at work, too, but in a fancy mesh chair that swivels and tilts and pretty much does everything but make me coffee.

Afterwards, I walked home, which brings me immeasurable joy. I don't know why I love walking to Mark's school every day, but I do. It makes me feel connected to the community, part of the school and the neighborhood, in a way I never felt when I drove Mark to school in somebody else's neighborhood. I love joining in the stream of kids walking up the block, and I love talking to the funny crossing guard, who worries about things like a little dog that almost got run over. "I tried calling him over here, so that I could cross him at the crosswalk," she told me, and I thought, "Now that is a woman who takes her job seriously." (And thank God for that!)

I was all in a post-PTA-mom glow when I walked up the driveway toward home. But it wasn't Mark who first greeted me at the front porch--it was the baby possum! Luckily, there were no cats around this time, and I was completely unarmed (no SuperSoaker or flashlight), so he let me pass by quietly. I eyed him cautiously (he freaks me out a little), and he eyed me back.

He's cute enough, I guess, but I decided right then that maybe I don't have to be on such close terms with every resident of my neighborhood...