Bowl me over.

I hate to admit it, but my three and a half year old has a busier social life then I do. She was invited to two birthday parties this past weekend. Greg and I decided (by which I mean, I decided, and informed Greg) to each take one. I would take Juliette on Saturday to the duckpin bowling alley, while Greg would go on Sunday to the gymnastics- gym? hall? Stadium?- only because I have already been to the gymnastics place on several occasions, it being a popular birthday venue. Also, for the past several years, it has been my policy to avoid any destination with the word ‘gym’ in it. It just makes me feel guilty.

We arrive at the bowling alley at precisely 11:00 Saturday morning. It was 60 degrees and sunny out (and just for confirmation, yes, this was Saturday January 6th) and we decided to leave our jackets in the car. We walked in to the dark cool bowling alley and I inhaled the scent of sweat, dust, and smoke. Why is it that a duckpin alley smells of smoke, especially in a state where you aren’t allowed to smoke indoors? From the warm bright interior to the dark, stinky, NOISY interior… noisy because they were no less then 25 kids, ranging in age from 2 ½ to 4, running around in excited anticipation of the 2 hours of bowling, cake, and mayhem that lay ahead.

I am not a very outgoing person. Small talk is not my forte. So I find it reassuring when Juliette clings to me and refuses to let me put her down. She is my barrier, my excuse for why I don’t immediately launch into familiarity with the other parents. Unfortunately, her shyness is short lived, and she pushes out of my grasp shortly after we arrive and runs over to the video games.

Why is it that a duckpin bowling alley has so many shoot-em-up type video games? For a short time several of us mothers were united in our desire to dissuade the kids from playing any game requiring the use of a quite-realistic looking gun. You could tell which kids were accompanied by their dads- those were the ones playing the gun games.

Anyway, in an effort to get involved and make myself known, as soon as the bowling alley guy asked for parents to volunteer to help out, I took off my shoes and jumped into the fray. I sat at the table and started writing down kids names on the play sheet, not to keep score but to keep track of how many times each child went. Somehow, my daughter ended up at the end of the list.

I could digress here on a long rant about controlling mom’s who come in and decide things should be run a certain way, which is annoying to everyone else, and is especially irritating when their way is stupid and inefficient…

But I won’t.

Instead, I will tell you what happened when Juliette got up to bowl for her very first time.

First, you need to know the Rules of the Alley, as announced by the bowling alley guy. There are only three, and they are very simple:
1. For safety sake, always listen to your Mom or Dad.
2. Only one person up at a time. Everyone else stays away and waits patiently by the benches.
3. Everyone gets to bowl three balls, then hit the reset button and go sit down.

All the parents laughed out loud at rule number one. After we were settled down, he continued on with rules 2 and 3, and the kids all watched him and looked attentive but… did I mention they were 2,3 or 4 years old? They just wanted to run around and throw some bowling balls… somewhere.

It finally gets to be Juliette’s turn, and I accompany her up (this is acceptable, the bowling alley guy recognizing that it was much better for these kids to be chaperoned then not). One of the other young boys, Alex P., is standing right near where Juliette needs to be, holding onto a bowling ball. His dad, behind him, tells him to wait a minute while the little girl has her turn. Juliette bowls her first ball ever and knocks down three pins. Yippee!

We turn around to walk over to pick out another ball, and as we are searching for the right one (by which I mean it must be blue) the father calls out “OK Alex, go ahead!” And Alex walks over to the head of the lane and bowls, knocking down a good number of the remaining pins. Juliette’s remaining pins.

The hostess looks at me and says “I’ll just reset it for her. She can start over.” And I turn to the father and say “Isn’t your son on the list? Because if he isn’t we can put his name down.” I’m being polite. I know he is on the list because I wrote his name: Alex P, to distinguish him from the other Alex. Alex P went second. But maybe the dad missed the organizational part of the day, and didn’t understand how things worked.

Or maybe not. The dad looks at me and says: “Oh, no, he is on the list already.”

Well!

And then he continues. “I’m sorry” He says the words, but the tone he uses, the inflection in his voice, speak differently. What he is really saying is “my son wanted to go, so I let him. And what are you going to do about it?”

I’m sorry too, I think. I’m sorry you’re a big fat ass. I’m sorry that you feel that the rules don’t apply to you. I’m sorry that there is nothing I can do except pray to the gods of karmic retribution that someday that bowling ball comes back and knocks you onto your… well, you get the point.

Juliette continues on but, having lost her groove, gets two gutter balls. Very slooooooooowwwww gutter balls. They never actually make it all the way to the end of the alley, and she doesn’t understand why she can’t keep on going until she knocks all the pins over, but I am the kind of mom who wants her to know- and follow- the rules, so I tell her to hit the reset button and go sit on the bench until her next turn.

Later, after cake and as the gift bags are being handed out, I get a closer look at this dad again. And his son, Alex P. P. P? And all of a sudden it hits me that I. know. This. guy. I went to high school with this guy. He was a big fat ass then, too. I wonder; did he know it was me and he did that on purpose? Or, more likely, is he just that way with everyone? And then I think, I can’t believe he is a father now. Oh, his poor son.

As Juliette and I make our farewells and walk back out into the bright warm daylight, I realize that I’ve learned something today. Two things, actually:
1. People don’t change.
2. Your kids will grow up to be just like you, so be the person that you want them to be.