September 21, 2006

Confessions from the Carpool

Livin’ La Vida Barnum & Bailey

By Shana McLean Moore
Times Columnist

When a mom buys tickets to the circus, she’s usually looking for some family entertainment, not an Oprah Winfrey-inspired “Aha” moment. But wouldn’t you know; some of us get more than what we bargained for. And by this I do not mean VIP parking and free popcorn.

Our family trip to The Big Top started out just like I imagined it would. The whole family was buzzing with energy over the live performances we’d be watching together, instead of our usual seeking of entertainment by bloop, bloop, blooping our TiVos in different rooms of the house.

I suppose this made it all the more exciting to take in the vibrant colors of the tents and clown suits; the combined scent of popcorn, animal feed, and a certain smoke the roadies were sampling beneath our seats; the sounds of excited chatter, the unmistakable music, and the cries of toddlers with newly found clown phobias.

Within minutes, though, with elephants entering stage left, people of freakish proportions entering stage right, and a gal walking the tight rope just overhead, I felt an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

I sensed in an instant that the afternoon was about to end in shock and horror. No, the trapeze artists didn’t plunge to their deaths, nor did the tigers prove themselves to be the carnivores they are. It’s just that this mom was forced to discover that she shelled out a couple hundred bucks to watch her life—and the life of every mom—in caricature. You know, something like watching your button nose be lampooned by a street artist, who then morphs it into something like the schnoz you’d find on Pinocchio’s puppet mamma.

While the rest of my family nibbled on popcorn and took in the show, the parallels between the circus and our life—a three-ring spectacle all its own—unfolded before me.

Some would say that the acts we perform aren’t exactly death defying, but I say you try soothing a child who has been dissed by her regular lunch crowd on the same day her sister breaks out in a rash on picture day, all when mom has a deadline at work. That has to be a more delicate balancing act than a one-footed pirouette on the tight rope.

Most of us moms know that our job description is identical to that of a volunteer ringmaster, the conductor of peril and chaos that surrounds her. Lord knows I’ve cracked a whip or two, and put my head in the jaws of danger by trying to make the kids start homework before they’ve even had a snack, or worse, forgetting about homework until bedtime and trying to get them to do high quality work when exhausted. Roooooooar. Sheesh, I might as well have bathed in pig’s blood.

Our real calling, however, is that of juggler. I picked up my skills for this when the kids were babies. The balls were small and squishy then—nothing heavier than diapers and a dirty pacifier—and didn’t hurt when I dropped them on my toes from time to time. But now, 11 years into the profession, I’m seasoned (or numb) enough to juggle with flames and serrated edges.

The kids qualify as a dozen blazing blades each with the many issues that concern them and, therefore, me. I’ve yet to lose a limb over any of it, but my sanity was lopped off recently when this load of daggers spun around me: Is their homework done? Are they eating well? Do they know we love them? Did they have any fun today? Do they have B.O.?

Then there are the husband spears that are thrown into the mix. Does he feel loved and appreciated? Does he feel this enough to avoid the advances of Donna The Divorcee at work? Will he wind up leaving me because I read silly magazines that make me suspect this? Should I blame him if he does?

Speaking of work: Am I doing too little for the family budget? Am I doing too much volunteer work at the school? Do I do enough things that truly interest me to keep me interesting? When was the last time I exercised? How many loads of laundry do other families do each week? Do potatoes count as vegetables? Do I have B.O.? Do I have far too much time on my hands to ponder all of this?

Probably, but not for long. The folks of Cirque de Soleil have called and they know a master juggler when they see one.

Shana McLean Moore lives in Almaden Valley and is the co-author of “Femail: A Comic Collision in Cyberspace” and the author of “Caffeinated Ponderings on Life, Laughter & Lattes.” For more information visit Moore’s Web site at www.caffeinatedponderings.com.