Today is Feb. 10. It’s not Valentine’s Day. It’s Wednesday. And thus, it’s the Valentine’s Day party in the toddler room at St. John’s Parents Day Out. Of course it is!
And so this morning, this working mom’s “oh sh*t!” stream of consciousness kicked in. There I was anxiously trying to remember what ‘party day’ was supposed to mean to us. The whole process went something like this…
Find the Sesame Street Valentines Mimi picked up at a fellow retired teacher’s garage sale for 25 cents. Check. Sign child’s name to the Valentines but do not put any names on the outside envelopes to make it easier on the teachers. Okay. Do not include any candy because we never know who might be allergic to what, and besides teachers hate sugar in the classroom. Of course. Is this the one where we’re supposed to include little pencils, stickers, cutesy tokens? Maybe that’s the Friday school. Maybe Mimi knows. (Late for work. Late for work. Late for work.)
Okay, sign for Reid. Find a red marker? Pink crayon? Try to make the script a little more festive?
What would Reid want me to do? (Late for work. Late for work.)
Reid can’t write. Or read. And neither can his little friends at school. But dagnabit those other moms can so here we go.
Black ball point it is.
Flip them all over.
Use print instead of cursive, of course. I mean what toddler knows cursive?
Is that enough? How many kids are there?
Settle on 15 with the logic that those rooms are pretty small and he doesn’t ever come home with bruises from kids climbing over him. Fifteen is probably more than I need. Oh crap, will I need some of those 15 for the Friday school? Wonder if I will I be doing this same tap dance on Friday morning.
Snap drifting mind back to the project at hand.
Feel guilty that Reid’s Valentines are likely going to be sub-par compared to the rest of the class. Remember that I still have to get shoes and coats on the boys and get them into the car. (Late for work. Late for work.)
Insert some granola bar bribery.
Stuff Valentines into his backpack’s front pocket. Make mental note to remember to tell Mimi they’re in there so she can take them out when he gets to school. Say a brief prayer thanking God that Mimi signed up to bring paper cups to the party, bypassing my incompetency.
Make mental note to never go out for PTA president.
Happy Valentine’s Day, dear reader. I mean, uh, Happy Wednedsay.
P.S. Yes, I realize I haven’t yet answered my cliffhanger from two posts ago. Clearly I have other crises to manage and haven’t had a chance, but rest assured (as I know you’ve bitten your nails down to stubs at this point) it’s coming.