Bring in the clowns

Went to the local Mayorga coffee shop to get some work done.  I was sitting in the main room and the baby was being great.  When it came time to feed him I decided to move to the back room where there would be some more privacy- even with the hooter hider I sometimes feel a bit exposed.

I set up happily in the back with the baby on the breast and the laptop on the table in front of me.  As I settled back into my work I began to notice that there were a number of nannies arriving with their charges.  “How cool,” I thought to myself, “they are getting together to hang out with all the kids.”  Then as the numbers continued to grow I realized something else must be going on…

That when she appeared- the lady in her fifties dressed as a clown without the clown makeup.  Hawaiian shirt, plaid shorts, red tights, high-top sneakers, a boa, bowler hat with a feather.  As I silently gasped in horror realizing what was about to happen, the baby looked up completely fascinated by all the garish colors.

Clown Lady: “We have a newcomer! What’s your name?”

Me: “This is M.”

Clown Lady: “Welcome, M!”

She then started her show and it was HORRIBLE.  Now, I’m not one to judge but this woman was a train wreck.  She’d forget the lyrics to the songs, she’d forget the dances, she’d play around with her rinky-dink synthesizer trying to figure out what she wanted to play for minutes at a time while the toddlers rapidly lost interest.  It was torture. 

And by this point the baby had pretty much checked out.

So I started to plot my escape.  How could I get out without being completely rude?  It was a small crowd and not a very enthusiastic one, even the kids weren’t very into it.  And yet leaving in the middle seemed harsh.  Once she started trying to get the nannies to teach her the lyrics to “Ten Little Indians” in French, though, I knew I had to get out.

So I waited for the song to be over and tried to slip out as quietly as possible.

Clown Lady: “Hey, everyone! M is leaving!  Say good-bye to M!”

Everyone: “Good-bye M!”

I quickly stuffed a couple bucks in the tip jar and bolted thinking, “I am so not ready for motherhood.”