I am writing to tell you that I have successfully entered into the phase of parenting known as "MY KIDS ARE IN FULL DAY SCHOOL, SUCKAS!". And it is beautiful.
No wait, it's unbelievable.
Scratch that--it's so amazing, I wouldn't be surprised if a unicorn shows up on my doorstep, just to crap a load of diamonds. As it turns out, I have already been gifted (from God) with a pre-made lunch for tomorrow.
Why has no one mentioned this before? Probably because other mothers of full-day-schoolers are sleeping. Or drunk. Chances are good you will NEVER hear from me again between the hours of 8:20-3:00, and then, due to the chardonnay, I will be unable to tell you *exactly* what I did in those 6.5 hours.
Now. I will admit. It was a tad bit daunting to leave all four children, particularly when two of them were trying very, VERY hard not to lose it. That part was terrible. But as it turns out, the day was GREAT for all of them, including our 3rd grader who is completely new to this school. Remember that million-dollar-swim-team we joined last year? Turns out that G's table mate was on the same team and they know each other. See, there is Godly purpose in spending RIDICULOUS amounts of money on extracurricular activities.
And speaking of God? He performed a classic miracle via a Star Wars lunch box today, as a new sandwich container simply *appeared*. Initial inquiries produced a story in which the container was given to him by his teacher, and I thought, "Wow! That's SUPER generous for a kindergarten teacher to gift us lunch ware!"
EVEN NICER for her to make us a peanut butter sandwich!
(Dear Jesus, tomorrow the children would love pizza with a side of pudding and sugar cookies. Amen.)
I'm pretty sure some other poor kindergartner ate five goldfish and half a juice box for lunch (at 10:50 a.m., mind you)--at which point, he was told his 12-minute time slot in the cafeteria was up, while his belongings were shoved (violently) back into his lunch box. Amidst this flurry of activity, I can only guess that he was told to "BEAT IT!", while being kicked out into the playground, shoeless. Correction, his belongings (and 80% of his lunch) was shoved into Little J's lunchbox, while, I imagine, he has claimed our ice pack. So. I've got a fancy new container AND lunch for tomorrow, and some other family has portable refrigeration for life. Win-win. Except for the poor kindergartner who died of starvation this afternoon.
On my end? I ran some, showered some, checked facebook some. Worked on my lucrative writing career--or volunteer position--depending on whether you feel salary needs to be involved for it to be considered an actual occupation. Also, there was lunch, and the baking of chocolate chip cookies, because THAT'S WHAT MRS. GARRETT WOULD DO on the Facts of Life. And I aim, somewhat successfully, to be a popular 80's sitcom--but I am going to require a 10-year-old robot and a mansion with a miniature, indoor train to keep it authentic.
But for tomorrow? I am going to (re) learn the moves to Paula Abdul's "Cold Hearted Snake" video, and should you need to reach me, I will be drunk and sliding across a greased up floor in fishnet stockings. Because I can.
Forever Your Girl,