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"  I am a sucker. I have signed up to be a class mom for the seventh time since the 2002-2003 school year. But before you scoff at me and my Halloween Bingo game and my cache of teacher&amp;#039;s gifts, have pity on me, please. I am sad that it&amp;#039;s my last chance to be my son&amp;#039;s class mom. To me, it feels like the beginning of the end of the good old days. My kids&amp;#039; tween years have been my favorite. No more diapers or colic or temper tantrums in the supermarket as the other mommies look on disapprovingly. While some moms wander through the baby clothing section at Target, sighing wistfully as they remember fondly the onesie and &amp;quot;cute wittle socks&amp;quot; days, I was more than happy to see them end. I really don&amp;#039;t like babies much. After all, they can&amp;#039;t catch a ball or watch &amp;quot;The Empire Strikes Back&amp;quot; with you and a giant bowl of popcorn. But tweens can. And they can go to the carnival with you, commiserate over who got voted off &amp;quot;American Idol,&amp;quot; hit tennis balls with you and use the bathroom all by themselves. And yet they don&amp;#039;t spend their days IM-ing their pals while standing next to you or asking you for the car -- yet. Tweens are like having cats who sometimes behave like dogs: They&amp;#039;re somewhat independent, and yet perfectly happy to hang out with you. But the end of my glory days is approaching, starting with the phasing out of my class mom job. In our school system, only the kindergarten through the fifth grades require class moms. After that, there&amp;#039;s really no need for anyone to set up a game of &amp;quot;Pin the Hat on the Pilgrim&amp;quot; or Kids vs. Parents kickball before the Make-Your-Own-Sundae event. I know I&amp;#039;ll be able to serve as a chaperone for the Teen Canteen in two years, but it won&amp;#039;t be the same. By then, my son will likely pretend he doesn&amp;#039;t know me as I check the punch for vodka. It&amp;#039;s just not the same as being the class mom. To the K through 5 kids, class moms are rock stars. When we show up, chances are somebody&amp;#039;s got cupcakes and an activity that has nothing to do with multiplication tables or spelling tests. Class moms mean party-time. And class moms&amp;#039; kids love when their mothers arrive with baked goods in hand. At least, my fourth grader does. But it&amp;#039;s also a chance to get to know the other kids in my son&amp;#039;s class, mostly for future reference. When I&amp;#039;m the class mom, I take notes. For example, the girl in the Britney Spears costume without any nuance of irony probably won&amp;#039;t be my first choice for my son&amp;#039;s prom date. The boy who inhales four times his brownie allotment when he thinks no one is looking will be tailed if he&amp;#039;s ever in my kitchen. The child who wipes his mouth on his sleeve is... wait a minute. He&amp;#039;s mine. Never mind. I truly love to hang out with tweens because I am a 10-year-old trapped in a housewife&amp;#039;s body. Fourth grade was among the best years of my life, before puberty came along and ruined it all. And as class mom, I get to relive it, if only during a few parties per school year. So, I&amp;#039;ve filled out the form to be a fifth grade class mom next year. And with any luck, I&amp;#039;ll get at least a double in the Kids vs. Parents kickball game at the end-of-the-year party next June, and maybe even an extra cupcake. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a22042/good-bye-class-moms-glory-days/?src=shelter_footer>