Saturday night, Teen Spirit’s band, Cool and Unusual Punishment, played Club Loco, a monthly event for teens organized by teens at the Old First Dutch Reformed Church in Park Slope.
Smartmom found out the hard way that they are oh-so-serious at Club Loco about not letting adults, especially parents, into the well-supervised event at the church, which is located on Seventh Avenue at Carroll Street.
To oversee the event, the church has a bouncer, a 30-something technical director, and a cadre of 20-something chaperones.
But to attend, you must be in high school — and prove it by showing a high-school ID.
While the Club Loco show got underway, Smartmom, OSFO, and Hepcat ate dinner without Teen Spirit. Afterwards, Smartmom put on her pajamas and watched the family’s new high-def, flat-screen television in their cozy living room.
But then, without warning, it came over her: Shakes. Sweats. Uncontrollable curiosity. The urge to leave the house on a freezing cold night.
Next thing she knew, Smartmom was stripping out of her pajamas and putting on her jeans. It was like someone else was in control of her body. At first, Smartmom didn’t know what was happening or why.
But then she figured it out. She was having an attack of Fly-On-The-Wall Syndrome and was desperate to see what Teen Spirit was doing.
Old First Church. Must. Go. To. Old First Church, said a voice inside her head.
So at 9 pm, Smartmom told OSFO and Hepcat that she was going to take a stroll down Seventh Avenue.
“What are you, nuts?” Hepcat said.
“I’ll pick up the Sunday Times,” she spit out.
As Hepcat went back to his computer, Smartmom donned a big red hat, a scarf, an oversized down coat and big, unfashionable winter boots. Nobody would ever recognize her.
When Smartmom got to the church, the bouncer asked for her high-school ID. She almost hugged the guy. Then he realized his mistake.
Smartmom was, like, so busted.
“No adults allowed,” said the young woman who was selling tickets.
Smartmom knew the rules. But she tried to talk her way into the show nevertheless. Nervously, though, because she was afraid that Teen Spirit might see her.
“My son is one of the teen organizers of Club Loco. I just wanted to see his band play…”
Smartmom was careful not to mention her son’s name. The young woman had pity on Smartmom and told her that she could stand for a few minutes near where they were checking coats.
Smartmom sat on a cold folding chair as Dulaney Banks, a local blues duo with a singer who sounds like Big Mama Thornton, finished its set. A woman, who Smartmom could tell was well over 20, checked coats.
“I’m a member of the congregation,” the woman said. “And the only reason they let me help is that I don’t have children. They really don’t want parents in here.”
Smartmom felt the need to explain herself.
“I haven’t heard my son’s band in quite a while,” she said. That was mostly the truth. But the real truth was far weirder than that.
Fly-On-The-Wall syndrome afflicts parents who are having a tough time accepting that their children are growing up. Teen Spirit is 15 and doing all kinds of things that have nothing to do with Smartmom.
In other words, he’s got his own life now.
It’s a strange feeling. Seems like yesterday, he was a tiny baby at Lenox Hill Hospital, and needed Smartmom to do everything for him.
For years and years, they were joined at the hip. Except when he was at school. After school, she would sit and wait as he went to baseball and soccer practice, took clarinet and bass lessons, attended a musical theater workshop.
She accompanied him to playdates, movies, museums, and doctor’s appointments, even video arcades.
But everything’s different now. He has friends whose parents Smartmom doesn’t even know. He takes the subway by himself. He visits friends on the Upper West Side. He goes to shows at the Knitting Factory.
He even goes out to eat at Oshima Sushi. All. By. Himself. And it kills Smartmom that she’s not as big a part of his life anymore.
Sure, she sees him at home. They talk. She watches as he does homework, as he IMs his friends, as he eats dinner.
They watch “Scrubs” re-runs together.
They chat first thing in the morning as he eats breakfast and gets ready for high school.
Don’t get her wrong: she’s proud that he’s an independent, self-sufficient, interesting person with an interesting life.
But she’s got Fly-On-The-Wall syndrome. And there’s not much she can do. No cure has been discovered yet (except, perhaps, time).
So that explains why she was sitting in the dark sanctuary of Old First Church listening to her son’s band through a wall, relieving an uncontrollable urge to be within spitting distance of her offspring.
But you know what happened to that cat.
Smartmom knew to keep her visit short. Beside, it was freezing cold in there.
Teens were pouring into Club Loco as Smartmom left the church incognito. She’s sure that the rest of the show with Dulaney Banks, Cool and Unusual, and The Floor is Lava! was great.
But she wouldn’t know. She was back on Seventh Avenue before you could say “Fly-On-The-Wall syndrome” picking up a Sunday Times at the Starbucks.
Nobody will ever know.
Louise Crawford also publishes the Web site “Only the Blog knows Brooklyn.”
