This Mother/Volunteer Is Ready for Recess by Amy Sewell Bake sales, book sales, wrapping- paper sales, reading time, baking time, art-appreciation time, the silent auction, Writing Celebration, 100 Days of School Celebration, Snail Celebration, Word Wall, Winter Fair, Taste of Tribeca, Lady Bug Day. Welcome to the life of a Kindergarten parent. The school year is over, and I admit that I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I remember being so happy way back in September. Finally, I was going to have time to get those long put-off projects done: honeymoon photo album (11 years ago); archive letters from year in Paris (17 years ago); One-Year-After-9/11 Documentation; cover couch cushions; and, um, start thinking about getting a real job. But what began with writing a calendar listing for my child’s snack day snowballed into the Kindergarten Parent Volunteer Olympics. It’s true, I didn’t have to get involved. But like some stay-at-home moms, I’m a little paranoid. Had the kindergarten volunteer gold-medalists discovered my stay-at-home-mom status, and were they wondering, “What does she do all day?” And what about my responsibilities to my twin daughters? Did I want to be like the mom of a friend of mine who says the only thing her mother volunteered to do was drop her off at school? But school had barely started when I began to doubt my volunteer-worthiness. It began with the discovery at the first book fair that I had woefully inadequate change-making skills. Then I was all thumbs during the holiday gift-wrapping event which became a shipping-and-handling mission for only the highest-ranking UPS commando. And then there was the bake sale. I thought it would be fun to bake some cookies. Get the dough that’s already mixed in the roll, just slice ’em, you know what I mean? Then I saw all the made-from-scratch, you-can-kiss-my-ass-Martha-Stewart goodies donated by 120-hour-a-week working-investment-banker mommies. I looked at my chemical cookies. What was I thinking? But it wasn’t the cookie debacle that broke me, that made me raise my hands to my head and scream. It was Project Giveback, a wonderful philanthropic effort to help others in need in response to all the support that P.S. 234 received after Sept. 11. How could one not be enthusiastic? What I didn’t know was that Project Giveback was the volunteer triathlon. The note my daughters brought home from school suggested different ways the children could raise money, including collecting loose change in beautifully designed cans they had designed. I wrote charming notes to our neighbors in which I offered age-appropriate suggestions for how they could help my daughters earn money: employ them to help set a table, collect or mail letters, feed a fish, play with a pet, sweep a hallway. Well, we got a great response. And soon I was busy beyond belief—with every neighbor’s chores appropriate for a 40-year-old mother with some extra time on her hands. For over a week, I fed my neighbor’s two lion-size cats, one with a stomach disorder that called for a daily cleanup of vomit. I tripped over a 40-pound bag of dirty shirts my bachelor-neighbor left outside my front door. A note was attached asking my girls to deliver and pick up from the dry cleaner—not the one located right outside our building, mind you. And then there was the neighbor’s nine-month-old baby whom my girls committed to watch for two hours. The infant became my companion as I tried, with Sisyphean effort, to get some work done. Now that my children—and I—have finished our first year, I have time to wonder: did I make the grade as a kindergarten parent volunteer? Did being a parent of twins earn me extra points? Did I prove to the parents of older children and the PTA that I can do the job? It’s summer now, and I’m getting ready for next year’s qualifying heats. I hear the best training involves several Mai Tais a day, some pool and beach exercises, and excessive napping. Given these guidelines, I’m hoping to be in smashing shape to compete again next year.