Back To School Night: I Have Issues

I'm starting to think my town's Back-to-School night is some kind of PR campaign. There were dewy-eyed testimonials. And product placements. And speeches that sounded like those a copywriter would create. While they made our school sound completely wonderful, there were no numbers. No test scores. No data at all.

It was like the Republican National Convention of Back-to-School nights.

Taken in the school's courtyard/garden/awesomespace

I mean, I do happen to think the school is pretty great. But it's a public school. A very well-respected public school with a good ranking. It's not like we need to recruit people, right? Especially the people who are already there on Back-to-School night.

Maybe I'm just jealous that the teachers got to study with Lucy Calkins this summer. She was my first teaching idol.

The classroom presentations were fine. Of course. I was actually touched to see that Lovebug's veteran and award-winning teacher got nervous speaking to a room full of adults. She made a point of telling me how sweet Lovebug is, and how hard he is trying in class. He still hasn't quite adjusted to the full day. Ironflower's teacher wasn't as warm, but she does seem to have a sense of humor. Hot Guy went to Hugmonkey's class, but it sounds like they just went through everything that I heard at the meeting last spring. Plus, I already love his teacher.

Anyway, it was the whole group presentation that bugged me. It was so non-specific and rah-rah. I suppose that's why half the parents stood in the hallway talking loudly during it. I know I should be condemning (or politely ignoring) their rudeness, but mostly I was jealous.

Obviously I need to meditate more on my jealousy issues.

I guess I'm just used to hearing more hard data on these occasions. After teaching in an urban public school for so many years, where test scores mattered so much, I find it weird that no one even mentioned testing or attendance or even PTO membership. Though we did get asked to join the PTO, the educational foundation, the music and arts foundation and to support the after school program.

In Which I Compare Myself To A Real Housewife

I'm going to admit this publicly, even though it shames Hot Guy: I watch all of the Real Housewives shows. I even watch their aggressive cousin, Mob Wives. I will sometimes think about these people as I go through my day. I've been known to read gossip blogs about them. I comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I haven't bought any of their books or products. It's not that I'm a FAN or anything. . . .

But I've wasted enough of my life on these shows to know that most of these bitches are delusional, narcissistic or both. So I should not have been shocked when one of them threw a hissy fit because her daughter eloped. (It was on last week's Real Housewives of Orange County, for those of you keeping score.) All the mom kept saying was how the daughter had deprived her of planning the wedding and picking out the dress together and all these occasions she'd dreamed about since the daughter was born.

I'm pretty sure that if one of my kids elopes without telling me, I'm not going to whine about missing wedding stress. I'll probably be bummed I missed the ceremony, but I've actually never fantasized about anything to do with my children's weddings. Possibly because my oldest is 7, though according to Vicki (the Real Housewife) I should have been thinking about wedding dress shopping the second they cut her out of me.

I spent half a second worrying that a Real Housewife loved her kids more than I loved mine, and then I realized that throwing a hissy fit about your 25 year old eloping is not a sign of a loving parent. I don't spend a lot of time fantasizing my kids' futures, because I figure my job is to make sure that they can have happy and productive futures - not fulfill my wish list.

Although I do have fantasies of traveling around Europe together. To be honest, though, I also have fantasies of traveling around Europe with just Hot Guy. And alone. I guess what I'm saying is that the kids aren't a required part of my European fantasy, like they would be about walking a kid down the aisle or whatever.

Except that I don't think I've ever fantasized about a wedding. Why? Because I spent my youth fantasizing about my prom and watching movies that fetishized it (Pretty in Pink came out approximately 2 years before my junior prom, okay?) and it was such a letdown. I had fun, but there was no romance, no magical moment, no suddenly being the belle of the ball. Hell, no one even dropped pig blood on the prom queen. If prom wasn't all it was cracked up to be, why would I daydream about a wedding?

What I'd really like to know is, which one of us is normal? Do you all daydream about your kids' weddings like Housewife Vicki? Would you be pissed if your kid eloped? Or would you send a gift and start demanding grandchildren, like I'm going to?

Tinkerbell, Registration, and Danielle

I feel like I've been busy, even though I don't seem to have accomplished anything lately. Well, the kids are alive - I suppose that's something, right? Anyway, here are the thoughts I've been too busy (or lazy) to turn into posts lately. . .

1. Even though I hate the character Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, I'm so glad Ironflower is now into the whole Disney Fairies thing, instead of the whole Disney Princess thing. The fairies actually do things and have talents, whereas those princesses just wait around to be rescued. I would totally rather have magic powers than beauty.

2. Yesterday's soft, misty rain made me miss the Pacific Northwest. Today's steady downpour makes me want to kick things. Also, what the hell, weather? Why am I wearing long pants in August?

3. Shrek the Musical really is awesome. We listened to the soundtrack yesterday - I forgot how truly good a lot of the songs are. The whole thing is so, so much better than the movie. I wish we could take the kids again.

4. Whoever put up the Twitter link that led me to Ebay deserves to be slapped. I am not to be trusted on Ebay. I'm not buying things, I just keeping looking at stuff I could be buying. I won't bid more than $2, except for the Tinkerbell costume that got me there in the first place. Because otherwise outfitting Ironflower in her desired Halloween costume will cost like $60. Still, it's hard not bidding $60 for 4 Yankees tickets.

5. Signed Ironflower and Lovebug up for classes at the Y. Instead of doing it online or whenever, there is a huge gathering where people get numbers and then you wait anxiously for your turn, hoping classes are still available. I was warned that I should go early. I got there an hour early and ran into our former neighbor. She had gotten there 3 hours early and had gotten number 3. I was 87. The whole process took 2 hours. Reminded me of my first college registration back in the dark ages. And by the time I'd graduated in 1993 we were registering by phone, at least.

6. My kids seem really hyper and crazy unless I've forced them to go outside (in which case they are mellow and quiet) or let them watch TV. Thinking of putting a tent over the patio and putting a TV out there until school starts. Seriously. If my boys don't stop shrieking and yelling about every little thing I'm going to start wearing ear plugs.

7. I feel kinda sorry for Danielle Staub, even though she is a loony bitch who would never talk to me. (If you don't know who I'm talking about, uh, don't worry about it. Your TV viewing tastes are more highbrow than mine). I feel more sorry for her daughters, of course. But she's just so obviously crazy and you can just see how badly she wanted to be accepted by the "popular girls". And if she thinks the Manzos are bad, she should totally go hang out with Jill Zarin and Kelly Bensimon. Or that British chick on D.C.

Poop On The Beach

The universe is testing me.

Two subjects that other people manage every day are completely tripping me up.

Other people, for example, don't secretly hope to run into douchebags so that they can get a blog post out of it. Other people, I gather, might not even automatically assume that someone is a douchebag within 10 seconds of seeing them. So I've been trying to be more open-minded and tolerant.

Also, I notice that I'm always telling my kids to ask directly and politely for what they want, and to speak up for themselves. Yet there are many occasions - especially with strangers and doctors, for example - where I don't take my own advice.

I was just thinking about my personal goals on Saturday while I was watching the big kids at a local pool. They were in the shallow water, playing happily, and I was chatting with my Dad  - who not only met us there, but managed to snag 2 comfy chairs and a place in the shade. Awesome. There was a group in front of us with 2 toddlers. I started paying attention when I noticed the little girl running around naked and heard one of the adults say, "But is she potty trained?"

The child's mother replied, "If she's naked, it's fine. She can just go in the sand. " You know, the sand were kids were digging at that very moment. THAT SAND. Not the sand off in the bushes away from people who were digging and eating and laying in the sand.

"Um, I think she's already gone, " said the first guy. And super mom said, "Oh, she pooped. You can just scoop it up with one of the sand toys and throw it in the trash."

That's right, the child had pooped into the sand where people were digging and eating and laying. And then they used her toy shovel to scoop it up and throw it into the trash can. And they didn't even rinse off the shovel.

I mean, how the hell am I supposed to ignore this level of douchebaggery? How can I not post about the crazy people who think it's okay to let their kids poop where dogs can't? And to use their kids' toys to scoop up poop?

I can't. I have failed this test, universe. And you know what? I'm okay with failing this part of the test. There are just too many douchebags in the world for me to be a kind, happy blogger.

BUT.

What I am ashamed of is failing to say anything to these people. I just stared at my Dad, both of our mouths wide open. Usually I can think of a good question or comment within 48 hours of an incident, but I am still at a loss. Should I have said anything? And, if so, what?

Help me here, internets.

Faux Pas Friday

When I first started blogging, I participated in something that happened on Fridays. But I can't remember what and I'm really too lazy to go back and check. Anyway, I don't come across as many blog carnivals as I used to, but I find that specific topics (ie True Confession Tuesday) help me blog more consistently. I'm the kind of person who needs boundaries and goals. I would have a much cleaner house, for example, if someone were grading me on it.

Anyway, recently I realized that, along with a svelte figure and sleep, motherhood has robbed me of my social skills. I have no emotional intelligence - in fact, I can barely remember to ask people how they are. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm trying to keep from ripping my hair out. That takes up most of what's left of my brainpower. Consequently, I make a lot of  les faux pas. And you know the way I handle embarrassment is by blogging about it.

Faux 1

A hot morning. Preschool is over for the year (more on that later). Hot Guy has the car. I need to go to the bank and the library and entertain my kids. So I have the genius idea that we'll walk on all of these errands, with a side trip to the Dunkin Donuts for a munchkin bribe. The bank is not that far, but between pushing a 25 pound kid, 40 pounds of books and the heat, I am a sweaty mess by the time we get there. And of course it's annoying and the baby starts screaming to get out of the stroller halfway through. Fortunately, the air-conditioned mecca of sugar is next door. I assume it will be fairly empty at this time of the morning, but naturally it is crowded so by the time I get the sugar and my diet Pepsi I am already flustered. I can barely get through with the stroller and the big table in the back is blocked by 2 standing women. They are talking to a woman at another table, and don't seem to notice us. So I squeeze the kids in next to the seated woman. When she turns around, I apologize and say pointedly, "There was no other room." She smiles and says hi to my kids, tells the daughter on her lap to do the same. I stand and chug my diet Pepsi and stifle ChunkMonkey's "Out!OUt!" yells with glazed munchkins. The woman asks me if we've walked there and I nod and wonder why she keeps talking to me. She seems surprised that I'm not really talking back. But I'm hot and all I want is for her to leave so I can sit.

It's not until after she's left that I realize she lives down the street from us. Our children have played together in the cul-de-sac. I used to know her name.

Oops.

Things I Wish Were True

Some days the world is so annoying that you just have to fantasize about things you wish were true. . .

1. That Jesse James was actually Sandra Bullock's beard and these are all disgruntled ex-girlfriends of hers coming out because she has finally found true love with Jodie Foster.

2. That when celebrities went to rehab to work on their "issues", "stress" and "anxiety", what they had to work at Wal-Mart for minimum wage while supporting 2 kids with ADD and no health insurance.

3. That all the Tea Party people were really just doing it for the cash supplied by Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck and didn't believe any of the crap they were spouting.

4. That milk chocolate was just as good for you as dark chocolate.

5. That saying, "Oh please, for the love of the Goddess, shut up!" as the 1 year old screams and gets in my way every time I prepare a meal was taken as a loving comment and not, you know, an inappropriate outburst.

6. That I had my 31 year old, pre-child body. . . .forever.

7. That we only read about racism, sexism and homophobia in history books.

8. That houses were self-cleaning.

9. That instead of paying for language immersion and piano and dance and soccer and T-ball and gymnastics and swimming and art classes for 3 year olds, parents taught them empathy first.

10. That I didn't really see Tiger Woods' kindergarten teacher on the news yesterday.

11. That Dr. Jack Cassell failed the MCAT.

12. That sleeping with a famous person was not a more likely path to celebrity than writing a book of poetry or solving a conundrum in theoretical physics.

13. That my kids would never doubt how wonderful they are.

14. That Friday Night Lights was returning to network TV. And staying on forever.

15. That Jon and Kate Gosselin never did a reality show.

16. That kids had volume dials like stereos.

17. That Justin Bieber was going back to high school to focus on his education. Or his hairstyling skills.

18. That all the people I loved lived within a 100 mile radius.

19. That aging rockers retired gracefully instead of horrifying us at the Super Bowl.

20. That I had an iPad, even though that's got to be the stupidest product name on the planet after "Pussycat Dolls".

What do you wish was true?

I May Be Doing Something Right

This morning, after telling the kids that we would be leaving for Florida tomorrow, I overheard this conversation.

Lovebug: I want to see the pyramids. I want to see them in Florida.

Ironflower: Lovebug, the pyramids are in Egypt. You can't see them in Florida. We'll see them when we go to Egypt.

Lovebug: I want to go to the beach in Florida!

Let's hope they can maintain their positive attitudes and intellect while we drive down there. We weren't going to go, but my parents have rented a rather large condo and well, we feel that we all deserve a vacation after this fall and winter.

Of course, my parents are flying down.

We'll be driving the minivan with three kids and eighteen bottles of wine. The wine is supposed to be for after we get there.

I'm not entirely sure about that.