Notes on a Rainy Afternoon

Don´t cross mothers. Or fathers, I guess. It´s a secret rule in the universal parenting-club.
Why? Well, having children makes one slightly more vicious. It´s the protective instinct, I suppose. In general, I´m not super assertive. But motherhood has changed that: when it comes to arranging things for my kids, I want to be the first one in the line.

Take this, for example:
This morning, I left the kids with Daniel while I got on yet another early bus in order to finalize the registration-process. After three useless trips to the prospective pre-school, I was going to be the first one in line again, but this time, I had every last copy, every silly section of the form filled in/out. I travel long distances, I walk through the rain, I make my way from one town to the next, I rush and stress in order to make arrangements for my kids. There is little, if any, reward for such effort in this country.

NOTHING, and I am not exaggerating, NOTHING is straightforward in this country. The system is flawed and inefficient. If anything happens to fall into place at first attempt it is by some odd miracle...and probably only ever through goodwill, or "enchufe". Most of you know it well. Years of paperwork should have taught me that, but I keep trying to be a step ahead of the system. Strangely, I keep convincing myself that I can beat the system by hurrying, by bringing along that extra copy of that extra document. Just in case. But it´s useless.

Well, last week, I headed to the school one week too early, both kids in tow. I rushed and ran, only to be told that I had been misinformed. I was not a happy camper.

This week, I made a second trip (again, getting up before 6:00), decided to try the friendly approach. I talked to the secretaries, showed my documents, and heard that, "so sorry", but the form that they had handed me 5 minutes before absolutely needed to be signed by both of the parents. In a window of 40 minutes. Everything else checked out, but the trip was a complete waste of time yet again because they had not bothered to tell me this in advance (or to give me the forms beforehand so that I could get it all in order).

I would no longer be the first to apply for a place & the suspense was enough to drive me insane. It was this school that I had selected.
So, another day, another manic trip to the school offices, and I knew this was going to be the rewarding one. I knew it, until the secretaries decided they no longer remembered a particular question they had answered the day before. Moreover, they decided I needed a copy of the document that had been deemed unnecessary the day before. I was this close to losing my temper. "No me lo puedo creer!" (I can´t believe it), I said. They must have taken pity on me, because FOR ONCE they decided to help me out a little. Or maybe they were just terrified when they saw my frown and heard my "tssssss". They agreed to copy the document in their office, allowing me to keep my place in the line. Ari figured 7th on the sign-up list of her grade, and hopefully, it will guarantee her place in the school.

The thing is: as I stood there in the rain this morning, I saw all those mothers standing there with their forms in "kung fu grip"... and I thought, "I have joined the fiercest of gangs".* Even the most phlegmatic of people will become intimidatingly assertive and competitive when they start parenthood. In a way, it´s a good development. This is not a country for the reserved. Everything takes years, there is never easy access to information... It comes down to survival of the fittest, the meanest, and the loudest, more frequently than not.

*But then again, maybe I´m just unusually difficult.
(unfortunately, it´s futile to try to change the system. I always try to fight it: I confront the clerks all the time. I get mad. But they make it difficult on purpose. I am convinced. )

On a completely different note:

Do you know those moments that give you a glimpse of your past life? No, not literally a past "life," but an earlier phase of life that has almost passed into oblivion. Every now and then, something reminds me of earlier, more simple, times. Strangely, this usually involves public transportation. I guess it used to be a huge part of my life: getting on and off the bus, to and from school. I would catch the bus early in the mornings, my headphones on, my backpack in the chair beside me, or on my lap. It was a walkman first, and I would push the rewind button...to repeat a part of a song that got drowned out by the noise of some loud passenger. Later, I had a more modern discman, and a couple of cds in my bag. I am convinced that trains and busses (buses? weird word) stimulate brain-activity. Or maybe it is just the scenery.
I am always exceptionally pensive when I am on the train or bus. (at least, when my children are not with me!)

Anyhow: today, as I sat in my preferred seat on the bus (not accompanied by the children, for once), I noticed a group of High Schoolers. I got my iPod ready, put in the earphones, and thought, "how things have changed!". It has become such a luxury: to sit in silence, or to listen to music while looking out the bus-window, or to read a book. (digression: Sartre´s "What is Literature" is not ideal reading material for bus-trips. It´s hard enough to get through a paragraph at home. So far, it has taken me about 2 hours to read 22 pages. Shameful!!). But, the funny thing is, I looked exactly the way I did ten years ago. I must be at least 8 years older than those kids, yet I could easily have joined them on their way to school. I doubt they would ever suspect that I am a mother & housewife. I felt old and young at once.
The passing of time. Odd.

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Rain, too, makes one especially pensive.