The Devil's Lot

Listen.  Before I wrote this, I had to sit down and have a long talk with myself about negativity. I had to ask myself how much of it I wanted to put out there in the world (ideally, none).  I had to mull over whether I've been using this blog space to complain about things too much (um, kind of- but I try to take these things and turn them into something fun and slightly entertaining, so I don't know? Does that count?)

I had to do all these things because what I want to write about this morning is most definitely negative.  It causes angry feelings to happen deep down in my soul, and unless you're Saint Teresa, it probably causes angry feelings deep in your soul too.  I've written about it before, probably too much,  and really, there is only so much you can say about this topic before it just gets old.

So let me just complain about the school parking lot one more time, and then I promise I will shut up about it forever.

I'm just going to say what is on everyones mind while we're circling and maneuvering around each other in that mess.  I'm going to put it out there, in very clear and simple language, because I don't want to hold it in anymore.  It's eating a hole through my heart, like a little worm.  And while I entertain fantasies of standing in the middle of the lot with a megaphone and shouting these truths at people, I know that to really do so would not end well.  So I'm getting it off my chest and writing it here.

First:  To the people who create their own lanes, stop it.  Stop it now.  I don't know what your perception of the world around you is, but the rest of us see lines of cars in rows (at my school it's specifically two rows).  When you put yourself in between those rows, without rhyme or reason, it's confusing to other drivers and maddening.  You deserve a wallop on the side of the head.  I hope it happens someday.

Second: If your child is not able to get him/herself out of the car by themselves, then I am so sorry, but you do not belong at curbside drop off during busy times.  If you have to hold all the other cars up while you put your car in park, get out of the car, walk around to the other side, and open up your child's door to let them out, then you should consider parking in the lot and walking your kids to the crosswalk.

Third: The same goes for drivers who have their kids put their backpacks in the trunk.  Seriously? Your kids can't just hold the backpacks on their laps for a few uncomfortable minutes until you arrive home? We all have to wait for you to get your car organized before you can roll your ass out of the way? How very self-centered of you. You're an idiot.

Fourth: Save the long conversations with your kids for another time.  Say a quick goodbye and get them out of the car.  In case you haven't noticed, there are 25 cars behind you waiting for your spot. Dummy.

Fifth: To the opportunist who speeds around the other cars and slips into a curbside spot out of turn, that's asshole behavior.  Don't be an asshole.

Sixth: If you are waiting curbside, please know that this is a line that moves.  I've seen people just park and pick up a book.  WTH, people? The line of cars circles out onto the street.  What are you thinking? Keep it moving, before someone reaches through your window and hits you over the head with your book.

And finally, if you are speeding-in other words, going over 10-15 miles an hour- I need to tell you something.  Lean in close.  YOU ARE IN A SCHOOL PARKING LOT.  That means THERE ARE SMALL CHILDREN EVERYWHERE.  They are coming out from behind big cars. They are lagging behind their parents.  They are clueless to big, heavy vehicles with drivers who lack the common sense to drive safely when they are around.  If you hit one of them, there isn't a name I can call you that will make you feel as bad as you'll feel knowing you injured some one's baby.  So slow down.
******

That's it.  Whew.  I do feel better.

On the bright side, I have noticed that there are lots of people showing kindness out there as well.  More than once, someone has let me go ahead of them with a smile and a wave.  That's happened a lot.  Gives me faith that we're not all stupid.

Okay, that's it.  Hopefully, me complaining like this won't have too negative an effect.  Who knows? Maybe someone will read this and actually give an offender a wallop on the side of the head.

I'd love to see it.

Sweet and Sour

     Back when we were camping in Colorado, the kids befriended two boys who were camping in the campsite next to us.  They taught our kids a new game called "Sweet and Sour".  The way it goes is simple: you wave at a passing car and if the occupants wave back, they're sweet.  If they don't wave back, they're sour.  I had mixed feelings about this game, since I usually go to considerable lengths to avoid any type of social interactions with strangers (and at times, even acquaintances.) My kids, thankfully, did not inherit that inclination from me and surprised me with their bravado. They had buckets of it.  They waved at travelers passing in the campground, they waved at people on the trails, they waved at cars on the highway in Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. They were endlessly optimistic in their search for the "sweet", crowing with delight whenever someone waved back.

     In the weeks since we've gotten back from vacation, I think they've mostly forgotten the game.  But I haven't.  I've found myself spending the past few weeks going throughout my days mentally labeling my interactions with people as "sweet" or "sour": the man who held the door open for me at the bank- sweet. The checker at the grocery store- sour.  Roo, when I pick her up from Kindergarten- sweet.  My Facebook newsfeed- sour, sour, sour.  (Seriously, what was going on yesterday? I was mentally exhausted and cranky after reading through it.)

     Here's a silly insight: the more I paid attention to the sweet and sour in my life, the more I started to appreciate the sweet.  What's more, the sour affected me less.  If nothing else, I was motivated to be even more sweet in the face of sour. (I think that's actually a trick I learned back in my waitressing days, but I must have forgotten it since).

    Anyway, I'm not sure why I feel the need to relate all this.  I think I just want to say that it's easy to get sucked into the vortex of the sour, especially if your Facebook newsfeed has been as argumentative and depressing as mine has been.  I don't think we humans were ever really supposed to be subject to that many opinions and information at once.  And while I'm not saying that I'm going to stick my head in the sand, I am going to stay in the present and focus on what matters right now:
I'm going to keep my political opinions to myself.
I'm going to do my best to be kind and help people right here in my community.
I'm going to pray for the things that I have no control of.
I am going to stay sweet.

I hope you all stay sweet, too. 

Back to School Night

     Almost every year since I began this blog, I've written a back-to-school post.  I told you guys all about PG's disastrous first day of school drop-off, I related to you J's puking episode in Kindergarten Jesus, and I got all sappy-sentimental with this post from a few years ago.  This year, though, I got nothing.  The first few days were a cake walk.   The most controversial occurrences were the eye rolls I got from the older two when I forced them to stand still in front of their classrooms for a picture.  I had barely taken it before they waved and ran off towards the playground.

That's J's "You have exactly 2 seconds to take the picture." smile.

     As for Roo, parents stay with the Kindergartners on the first day.  I had thought that leaving her on the second day would be hard since every time the teacher mentioned it, I had to do that blinky-tilt-my-head-back thing to keep the tears on the inside of my eyeballs.  But then the second morning came, and together we hung her backpack on the play yard.  Then she gave me a kiss, ran off to play with her friends, and I was left standing there on the playground feeling...... really okay.  No lumps in my throat, no tears blurring my vision, no emotional flashbacks to her sweet babyhood.  I'm a tough nut.
     By the way, it helped that I was recovering from a rough morning. Thirty minutes prior, I had been shouting things like  "The train is leaving the station in 5 minutes, people! I suggest you find your shoes and get them ON your body!!!" Friends, there is nothing like morning madness to suck the sentimentality out of leaving your kids. Nothing.

     Anyway, all this to say that this year, there was no story to be had from the kids' first day of school.

     There is however, a story to be told from Back to School Night.

     Back to School Night nowadays is nothing like when our parents attended back in the day.  If your upbringing was like mine, Back to School Night was always scheduled a few weeks after school started. Your parents probably left you with a sitter and drove to your school, where they sat in your little desks and listened to your teacher talk and answer questions for an hour or so.  The agenda looked something like this:
                         6:00 Principal's Message
                         6:15-7:00 Teacher's Message in Classrooms

     That's it.  If there were two of you kids at the same school, your parents probably split up to each attend a classroom.  Then they went home. (Actually, my parents probably took advantage of the sitter and went out to dinner.)  The whole thing seems kind of calm and relaxing to me.

     Our Back to School Night is a much different affair. At my children's school, it's always scheduled before school starts.   There is no sitter.  Everybody goes to find out who their teacher is and visit their classroom.  The agenda looks like this:

                        4:30- Class lists posted (Translation: Fight the 900 other families for a spot in the parking lot and then muscle your way to the class lists to find your childrens' names and teachers. Also, stop to greet friends you haven't seen in a while.  Do this in a large crowd while keeping track of your multiple children and your spouse, who grows irritated with you every time you stop to chat. 
                         5:00- 5:45-  First Session with Teachers, Grades K,1, and 2 (Translation: Begin the "Filling Out of the Forms" while simultaneously listening to the teacher describe your child's day and their policies.  If you're an old timer like me, you tune out the teacher because you've already been through this twice so it's cool if you just focus on the "Filling Out of the Forms"- until you catch a snippet of the teacher saying something that sounds totally unfamiliar and you feel like a loser for being cocky. )
                         5:45-6:30- Activity Sign-Ups and T-Shirt Sales in the MPR (Translation: Go stand in a forever line to buy school T-shirts that your kids don't really need.  Get to the front of the line to discover that they ran out of the size and style that your child wants.   Argue with your children about whether or not they really need to join the Roadrunner Running Club which meets at an ungodly hour before school starts.  Continue to irritate your spouse by running into and chatting with friends.
                       6:30-7:15- Second Session with Teachers, Grades 3, 4, and 5. (Translation: Split up with your spouse.  Pray he takes good notes on the doings of child #2's teacher while you attend child #1's class.  Continue with the "Filling Out of the Forms".  Start to worry about your mind when you realize you're listing the wrong allergies for the wrong child on the wrong form.  Realize that half the parents in the room are shaking their heads, crossing things out, and muttering to themselves.  Feel better about yourself.  Give up on filling out forms and decide to finish it all up at home. 
                  

Overwhelming mess.....

Ba-BAM! Now it's 3 neatly organized and signed packets.  Moms are  awesome. 

    At 7:30 it's all over.  You take your tired and hungry kids to Rubio's for dinner, which is crowded with all the other families from school who are also taking all their tired and hungry kids to dinner.  Your spouse continues to be irritated with you for chatting it up, but you toss him a burrito and he's appeased.  The last two hours have been filled with nervousness, anxiety, information, excitement and chaos.  You go home and pour yourself a well-deserved glass of wine.

*****

     So you see.  Very different experience.  Is it just me, or do we complicate things a lot more now?  School is practically a job.  I even received homework already.

Dear Teacher, my goal is to not resent you for forcing me to set a goal. 

     This morning PG said to me "Mom, I just realized something sad.  When you were going to school, you had to get up early every day.  Then you had kids, and just because we're going to school, you STILL have to get up early every day."

     Well, yes.  And in between my high school graduation and the birth of my first child 13 years later, there was this thing that I had called a career, and before that was an experience known as college, and multiple other meaningless jobs along the way which required me to get up early.  But I didn't tell her any of that.  I'll go ahead and rack up the pity points and let her think that school is the be-all-end-all of my existence.  That's how it felt at the end of Back To School Night, anyway.