Good Morning. Here's my Wish List.

Like I said when I was talking mustaches, I've been teaching a lot lately.

This means a few things.

1. I have to get up early.

2. I have to get up really early

3. Very early is when I must get up.


My kids are also in school which also means some more things:

1. I have to get them up early.

2. Its really hard to get them up early.

3. Nobody likes getting up early.


And usually? We're going to the same school.

Which means even more things.

1. We have to be ready at the same time.

2. Let me say that again. WE ALL HAVE TO BE READY TO GO AT THE SAME TIME.

3. That same time we have to be ready by? It's 6:50 am.

To say achieving such a feat was easy would be amusing. About as amusing as me having my own comedy hour [that is assuming my own comedy hour would actually be funny. Which, hello! Of course it would be.].

It doesn't really matter that I'm going on my fourth month of doing this job, I still haven't gotten the morning routine down, and frequently find myself running out the door without something [probably my phone], or spilling something [like burning hot lava coffee], or yelling something [uh, no comment].

I like to pride myself on being a content person, but dangit to heck if there aren't just a few things I wouldn't mind having to make my mornings before school go smoother. You know like.....

1. A [clean & matching] sock dispenser.
I can never find a matching pair of socks. and its always the last thing I need, at the very last minute. It's so hard to find even just one sock. Let alone 4. Why did they have to make kid's feet so dang small?

2. An automatic lunch maker. Human or robot, whatever. I don't care. Just somebody, anybody, ANYTHING, make 3 lunches for me. And don't forget to draw a picture for two of them.....

3. A personal [and professional] dresser. I need someone whose entire job is to get my kids to get dressed. Quickly. And with a smile on their face. This person should also be prepared to do battle with at least one child at 6:42 exactly on will they or won't they agree to wear what was chosen for the day. Said person should also be aware that this requires quite a bit more preparation than they might think.

4. An alarm clock. Not just any old alarm clock. One that will manage to wake me in a delightful mood, and in plenty of time to do my hair. In fact, it should be able to just do my hair for me. NO TANGLES. Oh, and it needs to be able to carry my kids downstairs.They should also be in delightful moods. Perhaps the snooze button should just be set that my clock gets all aforementioned things in the list done for me, and then wakes me up. Yeah. That sounds good.

5. A Chauffeur. That 5 minute drive? It's killer. Somebody else should do it so I can just sit back and drink my coffee. Or at least frantically do my makeup. This same somebody should also make sure they NEVER go over 14 in the school zone, because if you're going 16, or 15.5, you're getting pulled over. For sure.

So there you go. Not a bad list. I mean, I don't think any of these are too much to ask. We all need a little help from our friends....

Reason #372 Why Having Twins is Awesome

The school photographer thinks that your two perfectly, OBVIOUSLY separate children, are in fact, just one child.



So much so that he only sent back pictures of one, thinking the other child's pictures, in an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT SWEATER VEST, were just extras. Which in turn, screwed up the entire class list, and every child behind mine in line was mislabeled.

Come now, sir, was it really that hard? Can you not tell the difference between a pennant flag and an American flag? Can you not see that only one of my children found your 'fat chicken' joke even remotely funny? Did you not notice that only one of them is expertly contorting his smile to conceal a spot where a tooth once was? Isn't the potato-head/tomato-head comparison blatantly obvious?

I'm just not sure I understand the confusion here. It only took me a measly two years to confidently determine just who was who.

So there. Mr. Photographer. I'm seriously considering NOT letting you rip me off with your over-priced picture packages. Thats right! You heard me! This whole snafu has definitely forced me onto the fence about handing over to you my currently-imaginary-semi-hard-earned moneys.

Oh and by the way...Hayden wants to know why Cash gets to be color and he has to be gray.

I'm leaving that one up to you.

Expect a call from my son in the AM.

In Anticipation of Socialization

Next Monday, there's an open house at the boy's school.

Actually it's an Ice Cream Social, since there's gonna be ice-cream and unsuspecting parents will be forced to socialize with one another.

I'm a little nervous. This is new territory.

It'll be the first time I meet the parents of friends my children chose, instead of the other way around, you know, making my kids be friends with my friend's kids.

So this is kind of a big deal. Well, for me at least.

What will I wear? What will I say? Will I still have this enormous zit on my face?

If I make a fool out of myself, I'm screwed. That's the beauty of public school. All these people live in my neighborhood.

So if I do or say something lame, like maybe going off on a tangent discussing the nutritional values of ham vs. spam, people will remember.

Every time they see me walking down the street they'll say 'Oh there goes that spammy weirdo. Hurry. Get all the kids in the house before she sees us'.

So help me out here. Make me feel better. Come over and help me pick out an outfit. Say a prayer that I'll remember to shower that day and hopefully only get a little ice cream on my shirt [not a prayer that I won't get anything on my shirt....because for that to be possible, it'd require some sort of divine intervention.] Do your part to save my children from utter embarrassment [well, at least for a little while].

And in return, i just might let you know how it all turns out. If its not too painful, that is.

My First Day as A Suck-Up

Today, I made a crucial first step in my life as a mother of school-aged children.

I volunteered in the classroom.

Yes, yes, I know. I've been dropping a lot of bombs lately, first I tell you that I'll be giving actual people, actual advice, and then I admit that I'm going to be helping to shape the minds of younglings as well. I know its all a little hard to handle, but bear with me will you, please?

I was nervous about this choice. I've heard the horror stories of letting your child's teacher know you were even remotely available. I've heard the complainants about 'that bossy room-mom' who keeps asking you to 'do stuff' or 'buy something'. But I've also heard the occasional success story, the rare mom who actually enjoyed volunteering, or appreciation from a teacher who was in need of a little help now and then.

I labored back and forth over the decision during the summer, worrying that I'd go from sleepy semi-slacker to super-over achiever in just a matter of months [beacause I thrive on both overreaction and over analyzing]. I had frightening daydreams about going from being that mom who just drops her kids off and runs, to being the mom that tackles you for fundraising before you even know what hit you.

But by the time school started I'd finally come around to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to help out. I mean what could be so bad about getting to know my children's teacher, or their principal, or heck, even the lunch lady? After all, the school nurse claims to be a relative of Elvis, how could I possibly deny myself a relationship with her?

I told the boy's teacher during orientation that I was willing to volunteer, and she just about jumped out of her skin with excitement. I was relieved and felt so good about my decision that I somehow managed to also rope myself into designing the class t-shirt. I figured that way I couldn't complain about my kids coming home in some dopey school shirt. At least now I can say 'Hey, I designed that dopey school shirt'.

After weeks and months of deliberation & speculation, today, my first day as volunteer, finally rolled around. I was a bit anxious. Would I be loved? Hated? Ignored? Would I spill glue everywhere? Would I ever figure out what the heck a 'center' was?

I expected I would just be helping the teacher with her papers and things, maybe making copies or cranking out some die-cuts. But much to my surprise, I actually got to be her assistant. Sure, I did have to use a glue-stick, and yes, I did hand-address every child's report card, but I also helped teach one little girl how to write her name and I quizzed the whole class on their basic colors. I even had a little roll call. Can't you just imagine me having to call each kid up by name one by one to hang out with me? No? I couldn't either. I almost made myself laugh. Especially when I had to summon my own children.

The best part was joining all the kids for lunch. If you're looking to feel popular, or even pseudo-famous. I advise that you join a bunch of kindergartners for lunch. You've never felt such admiration. They'll bombard you with questions:

"How can you be a mommy?" Um, ask your mom.
"Where do you work?" When I answered 'at home' they all doubled over in laughter.
"Is my mommy going to pick me up at daycare?" Uh, I hope so?

And give you compliments!

"I love your hair!"

Okay, maybe that was the only compliment I got, but they did cheer when I came into the classroom. So there.

All this and I was still home by ten after eleven. There's nothing like a full meal, complete with rolls and mashed potatoes at 10:30 am, lemme tell ya. I drove home feeling stuffed and pleased I'd given up a few hours to hang out with a bunch of feisty five year olds.

In fact, it was all so much fun, I'm doing it all over again next Tuesday. And the Tuesday after that, and probably every Tuesday until the end of time, or um, the end of the school year.

So call me what you will, suck-up, brown-noser, or maybe just Sally. I'm sticking with volunteer. Just don't make me wear any bright orange. Please.

Wardrobe Woes

Tuesday I took the boys to be screened for Kindergarten Readiness [school speak for super-preK].
They were lucky enough to be screened by the teacher they'll start school with next week in the classroom they'll be in all year long.

They went in shy and a little apprehensive, and came out talkative and completely excited, visibly jazzed about the prospects of higher education.

As I signed the last few official pieces of paperwork, their teacher began to quiz me on how to tell them apart from each other. I gave her the usual rundown, "Hayden's face is long, Cash's is round, Hayden has a cowlick, Cash has a birthmark" while assuring her that before long she'll have no problem telling them apart, unless, of course, she's standing behind them.

She laughed, and then went on to express her gratitude that I did not dress them alike.

And then it hit me, all at once, like an overstuffed backpack landing on my head as I creaked open the imaginary locker door of my doomed reality.

My kids are about to start school 5 days a week, 6 hours a day.

Its going to be emotional. Our lives our going to change. And yes, I'm going to miss them. Of course I'm going to miss them. I'll miss them just like I'd miss my arms if they left me all day long to become smarter then they ever would staying at home attached to my shoulders.

But, OMG. What I'm really freaking out about?

I'm going to have to dress them.

Differently.

Every day of the week.

I'm going to actually have to use my brain when I walk into the closet.

I'm going to have treat my kids like the actual individuals they are, and dress them as if they were separate entities, instead of some adorable little freak show.

I'm going to have to like, plan ahead or something.

All this on top of getting them up unfortunately early AND making sure they're fed. And let's not even get started on that whole "Be on time, when on time is 7:30 AAAAAAAMMMMMMM" thing.

Woe. Is. Me.

Where's a uniform when I need one?