There is something called the Monday Mommy Movie and as far as I know it happens in cities and counties around the country. (Perhaps maybe you, my readers will enlighten me on this.) Anyway, we have one too. The Monday Mommy Matinee. Yes, alliteration is cutesy as a cupcake. Count me in.
Our MMM is @ 11:00 at The Grove Theme Park/no you're not in Las Vegas you're on Fairfax/take a trolley from Gap to Banana Republic which is two stores away/Mall. It happens every week and women and nannies swarm the main event, strollers and picnics and toy-bags OH MY!
I had never experienced the Monday Mommy Movie until Yesterday. My neighbor and her daughter and me and Archer made a date. Rolling solo, no more. Foursome represent.
We cruised, set up camp in the theatre with our little people and waited.
Momz and our offspring, women breastfeeding infants, and some of them, full grown men. (Hmmmmm...) Some Mommies followed their crawling babies through the isles and popped Gerber snacks like popcorn. Others passed out diapers and binkies and baggies. Unfortunatley there was no flask-passing. Whatever.
There were no trailers. (My second favorite part of seeing a movie.) Why? Perhaps because the "Mommies" were not the target demo for X-Men 3, the film we were all there to see. Another reason, perhaps that the theatre was relatively empty. Either that or the ol' "It's Bret Ratner, hon, don't waste your time..." conversation, happening over breakfast the city over.
For a few minutes I was digging the scene. Archer was snacking on a granola bar, sprawled at my feet with his blankie and my wallet (his favorite toy.) But then about ten minutes into the movie the bass boomed and the blonde ken-doll looking dude grew wings and Archer got scared. Really scared. Clawing at my face scared.
The other littles seemed relatively unphased. At first I thought Archer was just overtired and being difficult but then I remembered who his mother is. Me? Ding-ding!
As a baby/child/adult I was very sensitive. A babysitter once put on monster truck racing and I screamed and cried and kicked and wailed and had nightmares for months. Her name was Tracy. Tracy the monster truck bitch with acid-washed jeans. I hated her because she watched evil television. Monster trucks were eeeeevil and so was she. I had her promptly fired.
Archer and I bailed the MMM to play "Trader Joes Shopping" instead but poor Archer didn't sleep the rest of the day. He wanted to be held and was constantly looking over his shoulder. Paranoid Boy to the max. (Blue hairy dudes can do that to a little boy. Perhaps its too early to introduce him to Cookie Monster, eh?)
In Conclusion: I should have known my offspring might carry my sensitive gene. I know now. No more Mommy movies for this duo. We're of the "play in the field" variety. Back to our solo-park missions we gooooooo.
I would, however recommend the Monday Mommy Movie Matinee for peeps with less sensitive littles and/or to Mommies with super-duper newborns/infants. Dem peeps were chillin. Those Mommies were enjoying the show, more than ten minutes of it at least.