The 14 Moms You’ll See At Every School Christmas Show & Party

She’s got Christmas wreath earrings, she’s wearing a Christmas sweater, she has a purse in the shape of a candy cane. She’s the one whose kid came to school with an actual Cindy Lou Who hairdo and is wearing jingle bells on her shoes. She’s also sweating her ass off in this auditorium and has no storage on her phone to actually record the program.

Thank god a teacher said something to her at drop-off. She’s here now, her hair’s dirty, she’s wearing yesterday’s leggings — her plan today was to shop for stocking stuffers and do some laundry. She feels like sh*t about almost missing it and already posted an Instagram story calling herself “the worst mother alive.” She’s watching the kids line up and realizing her son was supposed to be in a Christmas sweater, and he’s wearing something with Paw Patrol instead. She wants to cry... until he sees her from his spot and grins and waves, excitedly.

She keeps checking her phone during the class party to make sure she’s not missing any Slack messages. Someone asks her what her plans are for Christmas, and she forgets to finish answering because “an important email” just came in. She’s checking the clock because she volunteered to decorate sugar cookies with the class, but she has a Zoom meeting at 3. She’s already asked the teacher for the WiFi password.

She got here early and tried to scope out a good place to sit so she could wave and say hi to other parents. When her kid cries out, “THAT’S MY FRIEND NATALIE,” she tries to make eye contact with you to say, “Oh, our kids are friends?!” She’s the mom in the Facebook groups asking where all the other “normal” parents are. Say hi to her. Ask her how she’s doing. Tell her you’d love to get a coffee with her after the holidays. Be nice to her. She wants a friend; be her friend.

She’s exhausted. She’s got a toddler in a death grip next to her and a baby attached to her boob. Her oldest told her at 6 a.m. that he needed a candy cane outfit for school, and she’s got three class parties to provide snacks for tomorrow. Someone is going to tell her, “Oh, you’ll miss this chaos one day!” and she’s going to want to tear their head off like Godzilla. The only thing she’s had for breakfast the past week is advent calendar chocolate.

She dreamed about these moments — about going to her child’s Christmas play, about baking cookies for her kid’s Christmas party, about hanging their homemade ornaments on her tree. She’s been so excited for this day, and it makes her feel like a “real” mom. Her kid may not move their mouth one millimeter during the performance.

She’s walking in the door with aunts, uncles, grandparents, neighbors. Everybody who’s ever known her kid is invited, and she’s trying to save enough seats for them all. She’s asking for extra programs and whipping her head around every two seconds like a lighthouse to make sure she sees everybody come into the building. Her kid will get overwhelmed by all of the hugs and kisses after the program and will cry. She will write a Facebook post about how thankful she is for her village.

She’s hugging people in the halls, waving to teachers, and giving little kids who don’t belong to her big waves. You need to know how she knows everybody — it’s like you’re all in school together and she’s the class president. She sits in the middle of the front row, but only after she’s given the principal’s arm a squeeze and handed her a card. Her kid sets all the trends and sings the loudest. You want to be her friend, but she’s terrifying.

She’s been stuck in traffic for 45 minutes and comes running in the door right as the first carol starts. Her husband saved her a seat, but her mother-in-law says something like, “I thought you were going to miss it.” She put the slow cooker on this morning so dinner would be done when everyone gets home, but she just remembered she promised her kid McDonald’s. She knows she’s going to be up late tonight wrapping presents because she won’t have any more time before Christmas. Her feet hurt.

Her kid’s been home for over a week. If she keeps her home every time her nose runs, she won’t go back to school until March. She keeps telling everyone, “Don’t worry! She’s not contagious! It’s just the weather change!” while wiping her nose in between bites of sugar cookie. She smells like Lysol, and her hands are cracked from using hand sanitizer. This morning, she caught a “productive cough” phlegm ball with her bare hand.

She somehow got stationed at the ornament-making table and is having a major sensory moment with all the glue and glitter. The kid next to her just dumped an entire bag of pom poms onto his ornament, and now another kid’s asking her to tie a knot in the ribbon for his ornament. She’s going to sign up as class parent next year and just order pre-made ornaments from Amazon.

She’s been practicing with her kid all week leading up to this. She’s very anxious about waving to her kid and them deciding they’d rather come sit with her instead of perform. But she’s also anxious that if she doesn’t alert her child to her presence, her child will think she didn’t come and will also be upset. Either way: She thinks her kid is going to cry through this whole performance, and her stomach hurts.

She had to invite her ex and now wonders if she’s supposed to save him a seat or not. If he comes, does she wave to him? What if he doesn’t show up and her kid asks where he is? Is she supposed to take videos and photos to send to him? It’s his fault if he misses it, right? Oh great, he’s here with his new partner. He’s ignoring her. She just wants to watch her kid sing and then go home.

She knows you have your big end-of-year meeting today and that you wish more than anything you could be at the class party. But she’s taking photos of your kid for you and photos of the class and videos of them dancing to “Jingle Bell Rock.” She helps your kid make an ornament to take home and cuts up their pizza for them. She texts you to ask if it’s OK if he eats just the marshmallows out of the hot cocoa packet. She tells you it’s “no sweat” and says, “I hope your meeting went well! You’re a great mom!”