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Community Corner

Another Spring Fundraiser, Anyone?

An Eagle Rock mom's failure to read the street cleaning sign forces her to get creative.

Wednesday night, 5:15 p.m. I am in the kitchen, trying to clear a section of counter space for the salad spinner and finish getting dinner on the table so that Mr. Fancy can head off to one of his many board meetings.

“Mom,” says my lovely six-year-old daughter. “You never have time to play with me.”
“After dinner, honey,” I say. We’ll play something.”
“You always say that.”
My daughter leaves me aching, my arms full of spinach and carrots.
“Cats in the Cradle and the silver spoon,” sings Mr. Fancy as he smirks through the kitchen. “Little boy blue and the man and the moon ...”
You might say things are busy this time of year.
On the other hand, isn’t that always so?

The good news is that the “Night of Big Dreams,” the fundraiser by , was a success. The generous crowd raised about $12,000. Bennett Kayser, our new school board member, even showed up. He said he read about the fundraiser on Patch. I thought he came to bid on the Kayser/Sanchez sofa I had built out of election material (see last week’s column). I wish him well with this challenging new job. 

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For those of you not in the know, the Eagle Rock Elementary Educational Foundation will host another silent auction on June 7 during the Open House at the school. Stop by and bid—there will also be several food trucks fiercely competing to enhance your enjoyment.

And Mr. Kaiser—we hope to see you again. Please bring your friends.

Find out what's happening in Eagle Rockwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

The bad news is that earlier that day at work, the crew was hungry, so I ordered a pizza from . I thought I’d save a little time by running down there—heck, I’d even save a few bucks by not having to tip the delivery guy.

Parking was a little tight, so I swung my minivan around the corner, parked, ran in, picked up my pizza pie quick as a wink and ran back to find a parking angel writing me up for a street cleaning violation! $68!!! Ouch! I know the city is broke, but guess what? So are we. I’ve already given up cable and our second car. I guess I need to call The Gas Co. and cancel that luxury, too. 

Well, I might have figured out a solution. It’s spring fundraiser time, so I’m going to host a gala, right here in my home. I am officially changing the name of my family to “The Foundation.” The paper work will cost me about $14,000, but in the end I think it’s worth it.  

The first gala will be in our living room, with only a few guests. During a delightful, roasted chicken dinner (thankfully, Mr. Fancy and I can cook) we will surprise our guests with their awards. (We do still own a color printer, so we’ll make some great certificates and frame them with Kaiser/Sanchez remnants.) We’ll let our guests glow in their glory for a bit, even if they do wonder about questions such as: “What? Who? Me? It won’t just me!”

Then we will show our slide presentation of The Foundation and the struggles of the family behind it, soulful music playing in the background. And right as we turn on the lights, we’ll hit them with a beautiful homemade dessert, refill the wineglasses and start the auction. 

We have a garage full of stuff that giddy folks full of wine and roast chicken will bid on: the life size turtle night light, the wine refrigerator that we can’t afford to stock anymore, 17 flower vases, and a handmade paddle from Mr. Fancy’s fraternity.  The highlight of the auction will be a custom, hand-drawn portrait of a family by my kids. We are so money.

But for tonight, I finish making my spinach salad and call my kids in for dinner. My daughter drags the easel into the kitchen to show me the picture that she drew. “Mom, this is you.” She shows two versions of me—the sad Mom and the mad Mom. 

Just then, Mr. Fancy walks by again singing, “Cat’s in the Cradle and the silver spoon ..." I punch him. “Hey, honey.” I say to him. “What if we pretend that I am the dishwasher in a restaurant and you come and apply for a job.”

“Mo--om.” Our daughter rolls her eyes.
“I promise, after dinner we’ll play,” I say. “Let’s get Mr. Fancy fed and off to his meeting.”
“Okay.” She hugs me. 

I know that at this age all kids want is time with Mom and Dad. I also know this phase of their lives will pass all too soon and that I will miss it terribly. It's a crazy life we are riding, I just don’t know how to jump off.

I start plotting our after-dinner playtime. My favorite game is when I pretend to be sick or injured. The kids get out their doctor kits and try to revive me. I sometimes get to lie there on the floor for 20 minutes. I occasionally groan, as they try desperately to cure me. It’s a great replacement for a nap. 

The kids insist they want to go the park, to which I agree. We play a little soccer, which quickly devolves into Chase.

“You be a dragon, Mom!”

I am glad they are persistent at dragging me away from my adult duties. I wonder how much The Foundation could earn if we auctioned off a game of Dragon Chase? Probably enough to pay for that silly parking ticket.

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