I finally get even (a little bit)

Mark is awesome at giving me school bulletins when it benefits him. I never saw anything (from him) about state testing, but I sure saw field trip permission slips.

But I did get an email from Mark's school yesterday about an event:

Loved Ones Lunch

Come by on Friday and eat lunch with your kids on what we hope will be a lovely spring afternoon.

Pack a picnic, if you like. See the latest in handball games, yo-yo-ing, shots on soccer goals, tournament play, and the weekly favorite -- karaoke.

We've arranged to sell Jamba Juice, Dippin Dots, and cold water. The frozen treats sell for $3 apiece, and ice cold water for $1.

It was the first I'd heard of this event--Mark never mentioned it, or brought home the attached flyer.

I promptly deleted the message, mostly because a better name for it would be Rejection Lunch. I've been to every school event since kindergarten, and Mark treats me the same every time--he walks five steps ahead of me and pretends I don't exist. If someone acknowledges me, he acts completely surprised, like he didn't see me there. I'm pretty sure he's convinced himself he has his own apartment and is actually raising himself.

But when Mark broached the subject, I couldn't help myself.

"Hey Mom, can I have $3?" he asked. "They're selling Jamba Juice and ice cream at school on Friday."

I played dumb. "Really?" I said. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing," he answered. "They just knew it was gonna be really hot that day."

"Oh," I said. I paused, then asked, "It's not for the Loved Ones Lunch?"

I saw a momentary flash of panic flit across his face, immediately replaced by a cool, casual you-are-boring-me-to-death expression.

"Loved...what?" he asked.

"Loved Ones Lunch," I repeated. "Didn't you get the flyer? I'm supposed to come eat lunch with you."

This time he couldn't hide the panic. He squirmed, unsure what to say. He didn't want to hurt my feelings outright, but he also didn't want me eating lunch with him and his friends.

I couldn't go to lunch anyway, but this sure was fun.

"So...what time should I be there?" I asked.

"Whenever," he said. "But...I like to play basketball during lunch."

"We can sit and eat together before," I reminded him.

He finally conceded. "I guess you can come," he lamented. "If you don't mind playing basketball. Because that's what I do...THE WHOLE LUNCH TIME."

I couldn't hold it in anymore--I burst out laughing.

"I'm not coming to lunch," I admitted. "But thanks for the thoughtful invitation."

Mark finally exhaled, relieved--he was panicking that his super uncool mom was literally going to ruin his game.

Whatever. I've been a mom long enough now to know it's not personal--he's just your typical kid, and seriously, the MOST embarrassing thing that can happen to a middle schooler is that his parent a) shows up at your events, b) opens her mouth, and c) your friends witness it.

But Mark better watch out...I'll skip this lunch, but I'll get him back next week, at his spring concert. I'm bringing my camera, my dinner, and the loudest friends and family members I can find. Mark and his friends will definitely know that I'm there.