When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger

Author:Lauren Weisberger
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

17

Pinterest’s Mom of the Year

Miriam

Miriam was a big believer in the pick-your-battles school of parenting, and what kindergarteners wore to a kid’s sixth birthday was not going to be one of them. However, as soon as she pulled into the parking lot and joined a long line of luxury SUVs waiting to park, she could see that she had vastly misjudged. Again.

The invitation’s “to the nines” clearly translated to miniature humans in all manner of ball gowns and bow ties eagerly rushing toward a bright red carpet flanked by velvet ropes while their mommy chauffeurs yelled at them to watch out for other cars. Matthew was the first one to undo his seat belt, although Maisie actually beat him out the door.

“Do not go inside without me!” Miriam yelled, helpless to do anything but wait for the other cars to move. “Hold hands—it’s a parking lot!” But like everyone else in her life, they ignored her and rushed toward the action. Thankfully a valet materialized to take her Highlander (was that a sneer she detected when she handed him the keys?), and she speed-walked to her children. A man holding a clipboard and wearing a purple crushed-velvet blazer with coordinating velvet slippers beamed at them.

“Well, who do we have here?” he asked.

“Kids, tell the nice man your names,” Miriam prompted, but they were busy watching the other children strolling down the red carpet, turning and posing for a gaggle of what looked like actual paparazzi holding massive flashing cameras and calling out the children’s names.

Miriam was suddenly self-conscious about her own outfit, a pair of admittedly not great mom jeans and a lumpy down coat. “Sorry,” she murmured to the doorman. “This is Matthew and Maisie Kagan,” she said.

“Terrific!” the bouncer boomed as he checked their names off his list. “Schuyler will be so happy her classmates are here. I’m Ron, one of Schuyler’s dads.”

“Thanks for having us,” Miriam squeaked, trying to hide her surprise that this extremely young and very attractive man was the father of a six-year-old girl.

“And you are?”

“Sorry.” Miriam blushed. “I’m Miriam Kagan. Their, uh, mom.”

“Step right up, kids. Parents’ entrance is around the other side. Only kindergarteners get to walk the red carpet.” He motioned toward the start of the walkway, marked with a massive gold-plated frame standing on a three-foot-high easel that read VIP ENTRANCE.

Maisie, who was just starting to read, asked, “Mommy, what does ‘vip’ mean?”

“Oh, it’s another word for ‘kid,’ ” she lied.

The father-bouncer gave her a funny look but didn’t say anything as he pinned a corsage on Matthew’s track jacket and slipped a wrist version onto Maisie’s hand. Both children beamed. “Go pose for the cameras now, gorgeous ones!” he told them.

That was all the encouragement they needed. Someone must have fed the “photographers” their names, because they all began shouting, “Matthew, over here! Maisie, show us your outfit!” in such convincing ways that Miriam couldn’t help but stare. She wondered if she should pull them out of there—after all, this

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