Basketcase

You know that you’ve found a happy school home for your child when he’d rather help Ms. Catie set out chairs than kiss you goodbye. I have to drop him off so early that even the director is not there yet. Only Ms. Catie, who dutifully feeds him BOTH breakfast AND lunch three days a week.

Poor Ms. Catie. I fear she has expectations even higher than mine: two weeks ago she sent home a homework assignment sheet that read, “Have your child draw a picture of him/her self playing with his/her ‘baby.’ Then, ask him/her what his/her favorite part of ‘Caretaker Week’ was and write it down in a complete sentence below the picture.” John drew a triangle and said that his favorite part of Caretaker Week was the horses.

But Caretaker Week has even more good parts to it. Since this preschool is a “cooperative,” we are required to do various tasks such as clean up after unsuccessful fundraisers, serve on "grounds" committees, and make meals for families with new babies. So of course I signed up to make a meal for John's friends, Ben & Sam, whose mother just had a baby girl. After volunteering, B&S's mother promptly informed me via email that they do not eat pork. Fine, fine. Pigs are fairly disgusting animals.

So, I was all proud of myself for signing up for a delivery time that coincided with my Fall Break. I spent most of Monday afternoon preparing the meal ... you know that I couldn’t just pick up a rotisserie chicken and some coleslaw. I had to attempt Cappellini Pomodoro with fresh basil and green onions from my dead, wasp-infested garden. Just gathering the ingredients nearly required me to take a tablet of the anti-psychotic variety. And then—mind you, I was on fall break and going WAY beyond the call of duty—I had to wake up The Prince from his nap and rush the meal to the center by 5:00 p.m. On my way out the door, however, the New Baby Meal Coordinator/Way-Too-Happy Room Mom called to say that the family had gone on a spur-of-the-moment camping/rock climbing trip in Appalachia and could I please bring it either the following day or next Thursday? I chose the following day of course, since the meal was already made.

Now let me pause here for a minute and take a poll: How many of you would attempt even a well-planned camping/rock climbing trip with a newborn and 3-year old twins … MUCH less a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants one???

So I took the meal the following day (yesterday) only to discover that Sam and Ben were not even there. Nobody knew where they were and nobody knew if anyone was coming for the food. So I left it in the director’s office and asked the two-year old teacher if she would put it in the fridge in case they never showed.

And today when I went to pick up The Goose, I noticed that the entire meal was sitting there on a table in the director’s office, exactly where I left it.

I'm not annoyed that I risked my life braving the vegetable garden, or wasted my time cooking, or spent my money buying iron-fortified pasta and organic San Marzano tomatoes. I’m just disappointed in the level of parental cooperation, and I'm wondering if I can hold a family with twin preschoolers and a newborn accountable for much of anything.

All my life I have been questioning myself about why I continue to be an overly-contributory citizen of every community of which I am a part while others just go around having babies and rock climbing and participating in all sorts of other irresponsible activities.

Sorry, I really meant for this to be all about how funny JEB is these days. Earlier this evening he told me that if I didn’t get still and quiet he was gonna “pop my butt.”

Probably one of the more important events of late (besides consistent potty pooping and butt popping) was our (LAST EVER) trip to the pumpkin patch. So traumatizing was the event that I have already arranged for my 2008 electronic calendar to send me an email on October 1st of next year saying, “DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE PUMPKIN PATCH.”

Here is a photo of John and his friend Elliott (remember the tractor/head gash incident at the birthday party – well, Elliott has, thankfully, recovered quite nicely) just outside the portapot after Breakdown #1 of the day.

There were subsequent breakdowns in the John Deere Tricycle Area, the Troughs Full of Corn (that you can scoop up with empty Gatorade bottles) Area, and in the actual Pumpkin Picking Area where there are lots of aggressive bees, frustrated parents, and over-tired children. I saw one Mother kneeling down in front of her preschooler saying, “UN. BEE. LEEVABLE. UN. BEE. LEEVABLE. You wouldn’t pee in the potty, but you just pulled down your pants and pooped in the pumpkin patch . UN. BEE. LEEVABLE.” Indeed.

We hightailed it outta there.

Confession: So fast did we hightail it that we ended up inadvertently stealing three pumpkins and a small gourd. Don’t worry, I have already mailed them a check with an explanatory letter that is sure to make their scrapbook.

I solemnly promise to you that I do not intentionally make things more difficult than they should be; however, the title for my autobiography (for publication after I’m done with my second term as First Mother) is Mountains & Molehills: The Struggles of an Earnest First Mother.

ION …

Here are some recent conversations we've had:

(Photo note: Costume found on consignment for $5. He went straight to it and said, "This is the one.")

What do you want to be for Halloween?

An orange farmer.

Oh. Like the ones in Florida?

No, like an orange farmer.

OH! Like a farmer who is orange?

Good eye, Mom!

Thanks, Bud.

You're welcome.

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To the tune of "Are You Sleeping?" ...

Red is rojo

Red is rojo

Blue azul

Blue azul

Yellow's amarillo

Yellow's amarillo

Orange morado.

Orange morado.

Are you sure that orange is "morado"?

Yes ma'am. We learned it in music class.

Right.

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It's time to go upstairs for bed.

WE CAN'T GO UPSTAIRS AND GO NIGHT-NIGHT BECAUSE BOYS AND GIRLS GET SAD AND THEY WANNA PLAY BALL AND LISTEN TO WOO-HOO SONG AND I'LL GET REALLY MAD.

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Do I have anything in my teeth?

Just some broccoli over there on the right side.

Thanks, bud.

You're welcome.

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We close on our house next week!

Until then ...

Onward, upward, and sideways.