Teacher Appreciation Week: Mo' Appreciatin'

Sunday night, after the kids were in bed, I was mentally surveying the week to come. Imagine an old-time riverboat captain, very grizzled, dueling pistol tucked into his belt, studying the river ahead of him for logs, outlying shoals, or maybe one of those little Huck Finn-type rafts. I am like that Captain. So I was scanning the week in my mind, wondering what needed navigating around and what hazards lay hidden, waiting to swamp us.

Do you get cheery like that on Sunday night?

Then I saw it: Great Caesar's Ghost, Teacher Appreciation Week. Helm hard alee! BACKPADDLE!!!

I have held forth in this space before about the phenomenon of the suburban Teacher Appreciation Week and how it offers unparalleled opportunities for moms to outdo each other while adding extra items to your domestic to-do list, every single day, for a week. Sure, I'd gotten about twenty emails from the room mom about this event, but somehow, when I saw Teacher Appreciation Week looming up out of the fog, it gave me a nasty turn.

My first fearful thought was that Monday was Handmade Card Day.  Laura had gone to bed, so I was already planning to lay out the card-making supplies and have her tackle it before getting on the school bus. Then I double checked and breathed a huge sigh of relief: Flower Day.

"I hope she likes daffodils," I thought.

I went out into the dark and cut the only two daffodils I'd managed to protect from Hank's predations.  (You know the adorable way that little children bring you a flower that they've torn from the stem about two inches below the bloom? Let's just say I have lots of bud vases.) I bundled them up with the old wet-paper-towel-in-a-sandwich-baggie trick and called it a night.

There are other goodies for each day of the week, and every morning a different mom is bringing the teacher an iced, nonfat, no-whip chai latte.  I am not one of those moms.  I guess I have given myself a pass this year.

Today was handmade card day, and Laura wrote this note:

She thanks her teacher for being "good-natured and respectful."  I don't know what to make of that.

She also wrote a poem which I will not inflict on you, as asking other people to appreciate your child's poetical offerings is like wanting them to listen to the dream you had last night. Suffice it to say that it included the lines:

In Autumn, leaves fall like colorful tears,
Color strikes the world like a prodigious ray,
The outdoor design is different each day. 

Hmm, if that don't make her feel appreciated, then I don't know what will?  But just in case, I'm sending in a gift card for Ann Taylor.

Lots of Living Will Be Required

They are all adorable but mine is the best one.

This week's slate had two chorus performances (Laura's and Hank's), two class parties, two doctor's appointments (mine), and all the swim practice we could cram in. Plus lots of driving, cooking, trying, caring, and giving a damn. No more than anybody else is doing.  Just the usual stuff.  I really enjoy all the kid-holiday-running around stuff, even when the room mom of Laura's class sends me the following email:

Thank you for taking care of the paper products for the Winter Holiday Party for Ms. D’s class.  Please make sure the products are holiday themed and please have enough plates/naps for both the pizza and cookie decorating. 

Oh! You want the holiday party paper products to be holiday themed! Wait, so the NASCAR-themed plates I have left over from our wedding wouldn't be appropriate? And by "please have enough," you mean that every child should have plates and napkins?  In other words, please remember to DO WHAT I SAID I WOULD DO? Take a chill, room mom. I got this.

And, as Carrie said on Twitter, God forbid the little darlings should have to wipe frosting off their chins with plain napkins.  But I love all of it.

Here's Hank's preschool Christmas program.  He is the middle row, fifth from the right. Unlike last year, Hank sang every song and seemed to know the words. The whole thing was totally charming.  The program was in the chapel of the preschool's church. I snapped a pic before any of the kids came in because I really admired their decorations.  Simple and striking.  Those white cut-out banners are a pretty touch.

Processing into the chapel, needing a haircut.

Matt and I left straight from Hank's show and went to my oncologist's office.  I hadn't seen her since before I had my radiation, so it was necessary to touch base with her.  Everything was totally fine, but I told her that I was having a some anxious feelings and imagining that every ache and pain was a disease recurrence.  Then I detailed a few aches and pains for her.  She told me to chill and that this is to be expected, especially given that I'm finished with all the treatment now and trying to get back to a new normal.

I told her that I just needed some strategies for dealing with uncertainty, even though the odds are very, very in my favor, and she said that the best thing for us all is to just come to terms with our mortality.  Yes, she said that.  I laughed, it wasn't what I wanted to hear, even though I know it's true.

Matt and I remarked later that it reminded us of that joke:

A man goes to the doctor, and the doctor tells him that he is very sick.  The man asks whether there is anything for him to do, surely there must be something?  The doctor says, well, you could go to the spa and get a mudbath.  The man said, "Oh, you think that will help?"  The doctor says, "No, but you should get used to dirt."

So that was a good visit, I guess.  Let me repeat that everything is fine and the only thing in peril is my cognitive framework. You know how it goes.  And tomorrow is the honey-bunny gynecologist.

Then I went out in the freezing rain, only I didn't know it was freezing yet, and bought supplies for a craft I was supposed to do with Hank's class party today.  By the time Matt and I went to bed last night, having sipped the last cocktail, karaoked the last Christmas song, and chatted the last chat, they had closed the schools (and Hank's preschool), thus rendering my craft efforts moot, but not before I had given twenty wooden craft sticks two coats of tempera paint, glued magnets to the back of them, and cut out twenty tiny felt stovepipe hats.

But I love all of it, I really do.

Please have a nice evening and use caution when moving about on the roadways. xoxox-B

Class Auction Baskets: What Works

This morning was a Santa Breakfast at Laura's school.  I took her up there because her chorus was performing and there were a bunch of related holidayish festivities like a craft fair and a book fair.  Also, the auction baskets: Every year each class designs a themed basket of stuff to be auctioned during the morning, silent-auction style. It's a fundraiser; people donate things for the baskets, which tend to have themes like "Family Game Night," "Tennis," or "Go Green" or something.  This morning the baskets were all arrayed in the hallway for everyone to inspect and write down bids if they wanted.

Now, when I was the room mom of Laura's class a couple years ago, the auction basket gave us some little headaches.  Or maybe it was my co room-mom who was giving me a headache.  Yes, it could have been that.  Anyway, based on that experience and what I've seen the last few years, here is what I think works and attracts bids:

1) A fairly homogenous basket, with lots of similar things, or items of a single brand that people like and know the value of.  For example, one basket that I actually bid on this morning was a Vera Bradley basket.  It had several different bags and accessories, all Vera.  People see this and know that they can get a lot of good gifts out of that.  Ditto with a basket there that was all Scholastic books and another that was Lego sets.  Well-loved brands, lots of gift potential, instantly appealing.

It isn't that the stuff has to be expensive, in fact, by planning and strategic shopping, you could come up with the Lego basket or a great toy basket and be able to auction it at a profit.  Scholastic has great online sales where they practically give those books away.  But the basket items need to be things people recognize, like, and would want to regift.


2) A basket that offers some exclusive experience.  One bundle contained three lessons with the tennis pro at someone's club, as the guest of the member who donated it.  This was a draw because it's not something you could really buy, unless you were going to pay to join that country club. Also, a "Blue Ridge Mountains" basket had a free weekend at somebody's cabin in the Smokies.  There were pics of the house, it was gorgeous and would have been bucks if you were going to rent such a place.  Actually, one year I asked Mom and Dad if they would consider donating their mountain house for the class auction basket, and they were like, "Um, would that lead to strangers using our house?"  And I was like, "Yes," and they were all, "We'll pass."  But I think it's still a good idea if feasible, and don't you love how I'm so generous with other people's possessions?  I didn't see any this year, but in years past, parents who were yoga instructors or dog groomers or heck, I don't know, divorce attorneys also bundled their services into the auction baskets.

3) A basket with a single coveted item.  One of the baskets had an iPad in it.  I kid you not.  It was "apple" themed, and it had an iPad, an Apples to Apples Jr. game, and some actual apples.  When I left the school the bidding was up over $600 on that.  Now I'm not sure of the economics here.  I get why someone who was in the market for an iPad already would maybe want to get one in a way that raised money for the school, but how did the donator come by this iPad?  I mean, how is this a profit situation for the fundraiser? Maybe it was one of the few Black Friday iPads?  Maybe the class pooled their $$ and bought it, thinking that the buzz of it would net them more than they paid?

Another class was auctioning a Big Green Egg grill/smoker thing.  I have no knowledge of this, but apparently they cost like $700?  However the donor came by it, it was bringing in the bids.

4) Gift card baskets.  A couple of classes had little Christmas trees with various gift cards hanging on them, in different denominations and to different places.  These are hot because, again, people see them and think, there's a bunch of stocking stuffers right there.  AND, these make smart money sense for the class, because gift cards are easy to acquire this time of year without actually buying them.  If you keep an eye out for deals where you get a gift card for buying something else, this could be a painless way to come up with auction items.

What doesn't work:

1) Baskets with lots of little ticky tacky junk that nobody would really want and that obviously came out of somebody's white elephant stash.  Wrapping it in pretty cellophane doesn't disguise this fact.  I'm looking at you, Santa Snuggie, or weird jellies from the misfit food aisle at TJ Maxx.  People have to be able to look at the basket and know the stuff has real value.

Does your school do this? Let us hear what you think and what works where you are.

Now She Just Needs To Attend 9 More Parties There

This morning I drove Laura to a bowling birthday party that started at 10:45 sharp. It was at the bowling alley where Matt and I spent an enchanted evening a few months back. When I was last there, I was drinking some quantity of beer, which may be why I barely recognized the place when I walked in today. I was like, "They have bumper cars in here?"

On the way, Laura had asked to be briefed. "So what's the deal with bowling?" she said. I said, "You've never bowled before?" "Only on Wii," she said. So I gave her the gist of ball, lane, pins, two throws a turn. She said, "How do you get your ball back?"

I thought that was so adorable somehow. My answer: "I don't exactly know. A machine does it but I think it used to be people." I am so awesome at explaining stuff--I can't wait until we get to talk about menstruation.

I did tell her how she could lean her face over the little air blower thing and pretend to be a super model.

Then we got into the bowling area and greeted the party folks. I said, "Okay, Laura, go on up to that counter and get your shoes." She goes, "Wait, what?"

THEN my former co-room mom Jan was there (she completes me!) and she was in a heated discussion with the shoe counter man. Or heated for a bowling alley before eleven in the morning. It seems that her little girl had forgotten to wear socks, and now the man was telling her she couldn't bowl unless she purchased socks from their vending machine, for $3.50. That is like a mugging. She had no cash so I handed her four dollars, and she offered to drive Laura home when the party was over. Supah sweet deal!

An hour after the party was over, Laura called me on Jan's cell phone and said that they would be late coming home because Jan was parked on the side of the road trying to coax a stray dog into her minivan.

For a party favor, Laura brought home a full-sized regulation bowling pin with her name on it. No joke. Not a toy, not a pin-shaped coin bank. That thing is solid wood and heavy as hell. Matt and I were laughing about it and wondering what those things cost, and he briefly tried to price it using the internet. Turns out, it is kind of hard to purchase a single bowling pin.

Oh, and Jan was unsuccessful with the dog and Animal Control was apparently closed, so she left it with a bowl of water and several energy bars. If I know her, she went back for another try. So not to worry.

It Is Upon Us

Laura's slumber party, that is. She turned 9 last Friday. Tomorrow night nine little girls will be arriving for an overnight frolic. I let Laura invite nine girls thinking maybe six or seven would show, but they all RSVP'd promptly and accepted.

The other day I was over at my dear old co-room mom Jan's house picking up Laura from a play date. She said, "Do you want to borrow our popcorn maker for Laura's party?" I said, "Sure," thinking we were talking about a small appliance. She led me down to her basement, where we confronted a big, movie-theater style popcorn machine. The kind that dumps all the popcorn in the bottom of a glass case. Jan helped me muscle it out of the basement, through her backyard, and around the side of her house to my van. That woman has a can-do spirit that I've long enjoyed. I said, "Jan, why do you have this?" She said, "Well, it's like a seven hundred dollar machine that was marked down to three hundred!" And I was like, that still doesn't really answer my question, but I love you.

Anyway, we'll have snacking and caking, and plenty of movies to watch, and I'm going to turn the girls loose with the video camera (Laura is always longing to film and be filmed). Question: Do y'all think we need a craft? Normal Neighbor had them painting pillowcases at her daughter's party, and she's offering me her fabric markers. I always wonder how much I really need to schedule or supervise, or if I can just let them roam free more of the time. And if you think a craft is good, any ideas?

My mother-in-law is here to provide moral and tactical support, bless her. She has conceived a nail-painting scheme where each girl has a different color polish and they go to town on each other's nails. That might go over well, as long as my entire house is covered with plastic at the time and I am heavily sedated. I'm totally kidding about the sedation mostly.

Speaking of my mother-in-law, she's brought her dog Buddy with her. Both dogs are lying at my feet and pooting so extraordinarily that I have to get up and leave the computer now. But please share any slumber party pro tips that you have and I'll be back when the air clears.

On the Pleasures of Not Being a Room Mom

Compared to last year's Christmas party, Laura's class celebration today was easy breezy, the difference being, of course, that last year I was the room mom, and I had organized this frenetic and supply-intensive game for the kids to play, in addition to the whole food and craft thing. Maybe I overdid it a little, in retrospect. And then that woman got in my face and told me her kid wasn't happy with his goody bag. Oh sweet fancy Moses. But here I am recapping the post that I just linked to.

I had only one assignment for this year's event: bring doughnut holes. That I could do. I classed them up by bringing in my Portmeirion Holly & Ivy Christmas tree-shaped plate. I believe in my heart that presentation is everything. The little girl next to Laura said, "Hey, nice plate!" I said, "Why thank you, sweetie. Have another doughnut hole." I would write "donut" hole, but I think we can try a little harder, right?

Not being the room mom, I was free to mingle and drink coffee. The room mom, bless her, brought a coffee maker. And speaking of dad-level events, there were a few dads there. One of them was kind of cute in a very preppy way. I had never met him before. He told me his name was Vandy. And I was like, "Are you real? 'Cause this whole persona is adorable." Then I remembered where I live now and reflected that "Vandy" is like "Bob" around these parts. And all the moms were there, of course, in uniform. (Pretty Neighbor and I agreed, after the fact, that the uniform was a sweater, puffy vest, jeans, boots, and a blowout.) I don't remember that we had parents attend school parties when I was a kid. You guys?

Anyway, I had my camera this time.

Is y'all's last day tomorrow? Have a good one! And here's to just waltzing in five minutes late with doughnut holes.

That Woman Is A Non-Stop Party

Last night was curriculum night at Laura's school. On curriculum night, parents go to the classrooms and hear what's on the learning agenda for the year. I think it's a good chance to get oriented to the teacher and her expectations, AND a major, important chance to meet and scope out the other parents. You know, chit chat, say things like, "Laura loves sitting next to Kennedy/Cooper/Addison/Carlyle!" (those are all girls, by the way), discuss playdates, and check out each other's handbags. The uniform for this event, if you are a woman, consists of:

• cropped pants (everybody's wearing those cargo ones, the kind that never go near any actual cargo)
• a floaty, fluttery top OR a t-shirt, if it's pink or turquoise
• sandals
• a pedicure

I am always slightly out-of-uniform because I wear jeans most of the time, whereas my fellow matrons only wear jeans in winter. I have the other pieces, though, which keeps me from getting a demerit. Anyway.

So we were sitting at our children's desks for this event, which required getting ourselves little chairs from a stack. Jan My Former Co-Room Mom's daughter sits in the same group of desks as Laura, so when she entered the room ten minutes late, I waved excitedly and pointed out her daughter's desk to her. I was thrilled to see her, because she always says or does something a little startling. The teacher was already talking, and everyone was actively listening to the intricacies of the first-quarter rubric for mathematics standards. Jan threads her way through the chairs and arrives at her desk. When she realizes there is no chair there, she points to a dad sitting at the next desk and says, at full volume, "I'll just sit on his lap," and she does a half-bend of her knees, as though she is about to come in for a landing. Everyone erupts in titters, the dad leaps to his feet to offer her his chair, she refuses, saying she can get her own, he insists, his wife smiles blandly, and we all get completely distracted from the pressing need to buy multiplication flashcards.

Everyone was seated again and the teacher went on with her program, and everything was fine except that she said, "If it's a test they had did badly on" instead of "had done," and I was pondering how big a deal this was, this grammar slip-up. On the subject of linguistics, in general, I am a liberal, but not when it comes to teachers. For them, I tend toward a jackbooted, strict prescriptionist model. I wondered if maybe she had been going for the simpler, "A test they did badly on," and got caught up in her tenses.

While I was working this out, she came to the end of her remarks, and we were invited to take our child's composition journal out and read it. Then we each wrote a little note for our child to find. I was engrossed in these activities, and only became aware of Jan again when she asked the teacher, "Will N get in trouble because I messed up her desk?" Ms. H came over by her and said, "What do you mean?" Jan said, "I messed it up, I totally trashed it as a joke. I spilled her pencil box and messed up her papers." I couldn't see, but Ms. H glanced into the desk and actually looked horrified. She said, "Oh, don't do that to that child!" My fellow parents were watching this scene in bemusement and dismay. Because they don't know what I know:

The woman is kooky.

I think that is the technical term.

And that's all I have for you today.

I'm Not Going to Do Any of That

Sisters, the time is upon us, the time of reckoning. If called to be a Room Mom, will you answer? 'Cause I ain't. (If you've arrived here by Googling "room mom," please click on my room mom tag and avail yourself of last year's room mom saga. Amongst all the minor drama, there are some good ideas.)

Remember Jan, my co-room mom from last year? I know she was a favorite with some of you. Well, guess whose child is in Laura's class again? So we don't have to say goodbye to Jan after all. A couple of weeks ago, when I got Laura's teacher assignment in the mail, I sent out an email to all the parents of last year's class to say, "Hey, let's all tell where our kids are going." Jan wrote to me to say that her daughter and Laura will be together this year, and to ask me if I was thinking of room momming again, and would I like to do it with her again, because we were such a good team. She said, "Plus, if I don't look busy, my hubby will make me go back to work!" Then she favored me with an emoticon.

I won't lie. I missed her over the summer. I missed her insecurity masked with brittle spunkiness; I missed her free-flowing, oversharing, email-epic confessions; I missed her way with a smiley face. I told her that I wasn't going to be a room mom again, but that I would back her candidacy.

So at open house, when Laura and I went in to meet the teacher, I only signed up for some minor duty--I think at some appointed hour I'm supposed to think happy thoughts about the class or something--but I remarked on Jan's name on the room mom list. To Mrs. H, the teacher, I said, "Oh, Jan is great! I was co-room mom with her last year. She does crafts!" And Mrs. H got a gleam in her eye and thanked me for that bit of information. Then I broke my own Rule for Ladies--Never Apologize, Never Explain--and said, "I need to take a break this year, I've got my hands full." Which is Southern-speak for anything from "This would interfere with my bunco" to "My husband is the governor of South Carolina and also we have bedbugs." So Mrs. H clucked and demurred like, "Honey, don't fuss yourself!"

So I got my absolution and we're cool. And Jan is in line to help pull off another year of wall-to-wall crafts, auction baskets, and melon kabobs. God bless us, everyone!

Will You Be Super-Soaking?

Aloha my friends. Tomorrow is the last day of school for us, and like we've done the last two years, the moms at the bus stop will spray the kids with water guns when they get off the bus. This is really Normal Neighbor's tradition, but she enlisted me in it when we moved here. We hide behind her giant Suburban and ambush them. I don't know if the kids are really surprised by the prank at this point, but it is fun. Last year we told the German au pair who lived around the corner about it, and she showed up with this ginormous water bazooka. Seriously, it looked like it needed to be mounted in the back of a pickup truck. When I saw that thing, I was like, "Oh crap." Total overkill. I had water in my shoes. Do you guys have any end-of-school traditions or fun things? I would love to do something else to mark the occasion, but I am short on ideas.

Update: it rained today, and squirting kids who are walking through the rain just seems mean! But we did it anyway. We drove up to the bus stop and I let Hank ride shotgun. Then when Laura and her friend got up to the van, I said, "Hank, now!" and he popped through the window and started shooting his little gun. So funny!

Today was the class luau, and it went swimmingly. The food was simple and tasty, and the decorations were great. We could have done way less, but the kids thought it was really special. Jan completely outdid herself. I am going to give her a Target gift card that I've been keeping for some occasion. Familiarity breeds fondness, in this case, because I have come to appreciate her eccentricities and her bubbly personality. That chick worked her ass off at this room mom gig, whereas I mostly thought of stuff and wrote emails.

So this morning I was loading the car to set off to help with the party. Hula hoop, check. Treat bags, check. CD player for luau tunes, check. I needed to get batteries for the CD player, so I hopped in and away I went. On the way to CVS to get batteries, I thought, "I'll get some good pictures for my blog." And then I thought, "Where is my camera?? Wah!" I started groping around in the passenger seat with my hand. I had left it at home, which is no biggie, but for some reason it stressed me out enough that I started to sweat, or you know how you don't really sweat, but your body temperature goes up a little? Like, preparatory to sweating? I could only tell because my eyebrows made my sunglasses fog up. Lovely. Does this happen to you?

I don't know why the camera seemed so dang important at that moment. And then I got worried that the sweat would make my mascara run. Rewind: Earlier this morning I was standing at the bathroom mirror putting on makeup. I have this fancy Shu Uemura mascara that builds and builds on itself. Like, it cost thirty dollars and you could probably make furniture out of it. So I got distracted talking to Matt and just kept putting it on. I had already curled my eyelashes (that's my new thing--love it!), so the effect was, well, striking. Think Elvira. In a muu-muu. I thought I should dress for the occasion, so I wore this long, somewhat shapeless, white maxi dress. So, muu-muu, check. Shu Uemura, check. Dewy eyebrows, check. Let's party.

If you're doing a luau thing--hi Googlers!--here's what worked and didn't work. I thought the food was very kid friendly, and pretty. I did manage to get a few pics with my iPhone. This is the table all set up with the cabana thingie that Jan got at Party City.



The food was not fancy, but presentation is everything. Don't worry, I told the mom who brought chex mix in plain plastic bowls that she needs to up her game. Kidding! Don't believe my detractors. Anyway. . .



The kids loved the fruit kabobs. Easy and pretty. I wouldn't have thought to leave the leaves on the strawberries, but it made them more decorative.



Now, you know what wasn't worth the time? The slushie machine. Jan brought an ice crusher and put popsicles in it to make little snowcones. Yummy, but it was another thing that the kids had to line up to get, separate from their snacks, and it just took up time that they could have been playing. Next time, I would just have punch. And use the slushy machine for frozen margaritas for the moms.



That's a happy partier. Laura won her round of the hula hoop contest, so everything's groovy in her world. The kids also coconut-bowled, knocking over pineapples. The winners got to pick a prize out of a big tub, and this time only one kid, and no parents, complained about the prizes. One boy picked a big foil-wrapped chocolate that looked like a baseball, and it turned out to be a Baby Ruth. After all the games were over and the prizes were gone, he said, really irritated, "But I don't like Baby Ruths!" I said, "Then don't eat it." Aren't I the sweetest room mom ever? Mahallo! Then I offered him a squirt gun that was shaped like a frog, which he turned down.

I hope you guys are enjoying the last days of school. If I think about how time is passing, I get a little verklempt. But hey, I'm not a room mom anymore! That was one of those "glad to do it, and glad it's over" situations. Like a lot of things in life.

Room Mom's Last Gasp

Every time I think I am so ready to be done with room momming and with my co-room mom's moodiness, she says something to me that makes me like her again. Yesterday I went up to the school to see the kids do a little play (which I must say was cute even though it was terrible, terrible theatre) and I sat down next to Jan. She said, "I haven't been able to call you back because I dropped my phone in the dog's water bowl for the second time." And I felt my heart open up and incline towards her, like a tulip towards a sunny window. She just makes me laugh sometimes.

And then sometimes she has me wincing on her behalf. We had a meeting later in the afternoon, at her house, to finalize details for the class end-of-the-year party, which, like thousands or even millions of similar parties across the country in the next two weeks, will be luau-themed. Why innovate? Kids love: 1) fruit kabobs; 2) the limbo; 3) wearing crazy hats. Hopefully they also love coconut bowling. More about that in a moment.

So Jan is showing me the decorations she's gotten, and she also had a ton of baseball-themed stuff, trophies, etc. She told me that she's the team mom for her daughter's baseball team, and that the coach had asked her to get all the trophies and that he would reimburse her, so she went and spent a couple hundred dollars on that stuff, and told him how much it was, and he never got back to her. She said, "I mean, I am so in debt and I spent hundreds of dollars on this!" And I was like, you need to get the money from him, you need to "remind" him, etc. But she kept saying, "I just can't ask him again," and "I'm not good with confrontation," and "I'll just let it go." It was making me feel terrible. Seriously, girl, could we get some assertiveness training over here?

She was in charge of getting decorations for the luau, and she went WAY overboard, and wound up spending a lot of her own money, 'cause our class money is pretty much exhausted by this point. Apparently there was a sale at Party City, and she bought a big cabana-type table thing, and huge palm trees, and a tiki-mask bubble machine, and I think the mummified corpse of Don Ho, may he rest in peace. And of course leis, and coconut cups, and grass skirts, and puka shell necklaces for party favors.

Her idea was, after the party, to box all this up and give it to the teacher as part of the class gift. Every year Ms. S has a luau party, and every year the class buys decorations, so Jan thought it would be a nice thing to bequeath. Fine. So I kept saying, "If this is the class gift, did you spend class money on it?" And she never gave me a straight answer, and after the baseball coach story I felt like now I was a party to taking advantage of her. But the woman needs boundaries and quick.

One more party and then I'm hanging up my room mom hat. I am sure everything will go smoothly and the kids will enjoy themselves. Hopefully there will be no repeat of the "This toy is too girly" fiasco of Xmas '08. If anyone steps out of line, I am prepared to knock her on the coconut.

Are y'all doing this end-of-the-year party business, and how many of your kids' classes are having luaus? It's a luaupalooza!

Playing Hooky

On Monday afternoon I got a wild hare to take the kids up to North Carolina for a couple of days. Mom and Dad were going to be up at their mountain house for a bit longer before heading back down to Florida, and I knew it would be gorgeous, cool weather up there. What better way to not turn on the air-conditioner in my own house, right? Also, with standardized testing over in the second grade, I figured that missing one-and-a-half days of school would not condemn Laura to subaltern status in the global economy of the future. Of course, while I was gone I got like five increasingly shrill emails about classroom stuff from my co-room mom. "End of the year party!" "Lunch or snack??" "Watermelon kabobs?!?" "Hula hoop contest or limbo??!!!!????" "Dear lord, flower LEIS for the boys or BEACH BALLS????!!!!!!111"

Yeah. So I'm back on duty now. As I was driving down into our cul-de-sac, I saw Conspiracy Guy standing at the end of his driveway. He gave us a little wave, and kind of stepped toward us like he wanted to speak, so I stopped and rolled down the window. "Hey, how's it going?" I asked. He pantomimed strangling himself with both hands, sticking out his tongue and making his eyes big. I said, "Ha ha. Busy, huh?" He then pantomimed shooting himself in the head. One hand, pointer finger extended, was the gun, and the other hand--and I have never seen this done--was what I took to be bits of his brain and skull flying away from the exit wound on the other side of his head. I took my foot off the brake and begin to roll. To complete the charade, he rocked back on one leg and stumbled sideways. Laura said, "Mom, what is he doing?" I said, "I don't know." Then I gave him a nod and cruised on up into my driveway.

Tomorrow, remind me to tell you about a conversation I had with Conspiracy Guy about the Mystery People. Believe me, if that guy thinks you're weird, you are weird in a serious, scientifically-provable way, my friend.

I Should've Liveblogged That Children's Party

It was a target-rich environment, there at the skating rink yesterday. We celebrated Laura's 8th birthday, and several characters from my blog--Frenemy Neighbor, my kooky Co-Room Mom, Normal Neighbor--were all together in one place. My only thought was of you, my Reader, when from across the room, I saw Frenemy deep in conversation with Jan the co-room mom. I wished fervently that I had miked everyone. I knew what they were saying, though, because Frenemy has stayed at Laura's parties for the past two years, where she picks one of my acquaintances, first quizzing her about where they go to church, then how her children are schooled, and finally moving into a more probing interrogation designed to determine whether this family would be open to involvement in a multi-level marketing scheme. Last year I apologized, later, to the mom she'd had in her talons. I think that Jan, though, probably gave crazy as good as she got. Party time!

And does this scene bring back memories for you?

It does for me. The skating rink scene has not changed a wink in 25 years. I had SO many skating parties as a kid, but the old me who could skate fast, then spin around and skate backwards. . .she is gone. The new me Hokey-Pokeys a little too exuberantly, then falls down on some kids. That's what it's all about.

The whole birthday party felt retro to me, not just because of the setting, but because of how little I stressed out over it (and how CHEAP it was). I know this isn't the mommyblogger fashion, but I kinda outsourced the whole thing. Nothing was carefully handmade, is what I'm saying. Two years ago, I made fancy finger sandwiches and set a pretty table with punch and teacups. Last year, Laura and I had a gorgeous bakery cake made, and this year, wait for it. . .the night before the party, we went to Target, and Laura picked out a little sheet cake that was sitting there, and they wrote her name on it. The cake woman was like, "I used the wrong tip for 'Happy,' so it looks different from the other words." And I said, "Looks great to me." The kids seemed to enjoy it. And the skating rink served pizza and Sprite. I mean, Sprite! Do you get what I'm saying about the retro? Love it!

I looked at these little girls and thought how beautiful they all are, each in her different way. I love trying to imagine what they'll look like as grown women. Mister Hank had a mighty nice time with all the ladies.

He even skated some, on the carpet. Hank skating on the wood floor was not something that worked.

Other things of note: Jan the co-room mom, who is actually pretty fun when you're not trying to accomplish anything with her, brought a big, fake ponytail for Laura. She also skated like a champ and flirted with the teenage boys who were working there. One of them offered her some of his gum. She's a party-enhancer. And here's that glamour hair.

And lastly, my own dear Frenemy Neighbor. When last we spoke, it was up in the air whether we would drive her daughter to the party with us. She never got back to me, so I filled our van with three other little girls. Then Frenemy and her daughter arrived an hour late, so P didn't really get to skate very much.

And AND, I was wearing this shirt, from Garnet Hill:

And Frenemy Neighbor asked me if I was pregnant. Oh yes she did. I thought that everyone on the planet had gotten the memo: you do not do that unless you actually see the baby's head coming out. But no.

It was a perfect Frenemy Neighbor moment.

Wall to Wall Appreciation

What does Teacher Appreciation week look like in your kid's school? I need an idea or two. When we last spoke of this, my co-room mom was too discouraged to help plan, so I need to get this underway. Our school's TA week is March 9-13. What happens each day is basically up to the room moms, with only one schoolwide event. On Wednesday of that week, the teachers all go to a special lunch just for them, while parent volunteers take their classes to and from lunch and keep them busy for an hour or so. Also that day, some parents send in desserts for the luncheon. The OTHER four days that week, in years past, parents have also provided lunches for the teacher. Nothing fancy--like somebody swings by Chick-fil-A and brings a bag to school. Or sometimes breakfast.

The other thing, usually, is that each day has a theme. Children bring things in according to the theme. Like,

Flower Day: each child brings in one cut flower to put in a vase on the teacher's desk.

Handmade Card Day

And the other ideas the PTA rep had weren't that great. I don't want it to be a situation where every day, moms have to send in stuff they bought, even if Ms S did let us know that she likes candles and picture frames. (Really? Because I assumed teachers were drowing in candles and picture frames.) Except, I may do one idea that Jan had. She emailed me in spite of her discouragement. I share it with you now:

Becky, have you sent out anything regarding teacher appreciation week yet? If not, I was thinking of an idea for one of the days. Since Ms. S won a cruise maybe one day’s theme could be “Von Voyage”. The kids could bring things like a book, sunscreen, beach bag, cute luggage tags, earplugs, travel journal, disposable underwater camera, etc. Don’t feel like you have to use this idea, I was just looking at my mom’s pictures from a cruise they took and had the idea.

Then she favored me with an emoticon.
This is me not making a joke about the fact that she said "Von Voyage." Probably a typo.

So I think Jan's Von Voyage idea is cute, and would be very timely, since Ms. S did just win a cruise. But I need at least one more idea for a goody day, and if it didn't involve buying things, that would be good. I guess we could go with a candy and treat basket? Any thoughts?

The other thing I'm not sure about is, does a mom need to be present every day to be the master of ceremonies? Like, to collect all of the kids' homemade cards and present them to the teacher? Or, you know, put the goodies in a basket? I think that last year, the class room mom basically slept on a cot in the corner of the classroom. But I don't do that. So I need to figure that out. That is all from room mom land. Please send along your ideas, or send liquor. Or balloon bouquets.

My Co-Room Mom is Discouraged

Last weekend I got an email from Jan, my co-room mom. After a few hiccups in our room-momming operations, I thought things were going fine. We had a class Christmas party, our auction basket was lovely, and parent volunteers have been in the classroom every week. Then I got this email:

Subj: Teacher Appreciation Week

Hi Becky, could you handle this? After organizing the last minute
Valentine’s Day craft and trying to figure out the reader and centers schedule I need a break from room mom stuff. It was discouraging to try to make the volunteer list and have many parents upset because they didn’t get all the days they wanted, etc. Thanks!

Then she favored me with an emoticon.

So of course I emailed her back and said, don't worry about it, I'll handle it, I'm sorry you're discouraged, cheer up camper, etc. I offered to take over the volunteer schedule. She hasn't replied to me. But I was a little surprised by her email. I'm not sure what she is talking about when she says that parents were upset because they didn't get the days they wanted. I'm thinking maybe it's that lots of moms want to come in and read to the class, and would do it several times if they could, when there really aren't enough Fridays for people to do it more than a couple of times. I find it hard to believe people would complain about this in an unpleasant way, and Jan should have told them to stuff it if they did.

When I got this email, I harrumphed and read it aloud. Our friend Jane said, "That sounds like a room mom signing off." I think that's probably right. And I love how Jan complains about the "last minute Valentine's Day craft." The story there is, Tuesday of last week, she came up to me at the 2nd grade performance of Seussical: The Musical, and said, "Did we want for me to do a craft on Friday? Because I can." I said, "Well, I think the class is just doing a Valentine exchange, with no parents, but I'm sure that would be fun." And she said, "Okay, I'll do it, I've got the supplies." But apparently the craft was the straw that broke the camel's back. And I should have said, "Noooo, don't do it! It's too much!"

Yes, I'm kind of bitching out about this, I guess, even though it's not that big a deal. But I'm thinking that if I were a medical doctor, I would prescribe Jan a shot of Toughen-Up. That is all.

Shorties Were Sipping

The second-grade Christmas party was today, and a good time was had by all. Definitely the place to see and be seen at 8:30 this morning. I was there at 8:15 WEARING MAKEUP, armed with a proper tablecloth and supplies for our crazy "Dress Your Santa" game (all the hot details on that below, as well as a special party installment of OMG You Did Not Just Say That.)

This event only had three components: Food, craft, and game. Since it was so early and the kids still had to eat lunch at 11:30, we did a breakfast party. One mom brought bagels and three kinds of cream cheese. And she didn't just bring in the tubs. Please! She decanted them into little serving bowls that fit on a metal rack, and had little Santa spreaders in each. I heartily approved of that. We also had fruit and mini muffins and two juices. And peanut butter. That was all, but you would have thought it was ambrosia. The kids were happy. Like this.

The kids decorated huge gingerbread men that another mom had brought. This doubled as their craft, and we bagged 'em up for them to take home. Before the party, the class had done a creative writing exercise about gingerbread people. Laura's says:

Frost [the gingergirl] sat on the riverbank, and the river made all her memories flow into her mind. Behind everything she was thinking, a voice was telling her to steal anything she could get her tasty cookie hands on.

It's so festive! And disturbing! Holidays! Then for the game, the kids were divided up into four teams of 4 or 5 kids, and each team was given a shopping bag. Inside the bag I had put:

• 10 sheets of red tissue paper


• a couple yards of wide black ribbon, the cheap outdoor "satin" kind


• a big piece of black felt, like an 18" square


• a big piece of cotton batting. I bought a piece intended for a baby quilt and cut it into fourths.


• a handful of black and white pipe cleaners (or "chenille sticks" as they're now called)


• a white pom-pom


• roll of clear tape


• scissors

Each team had a mom to dress. When I called "Go!" the kids dumped out their supplies to see what they had, and got to work crafting their Santa costume. I thought they might be a little too young to make a go of this, but they had fun. They loved the timed aspect of it and the open-endedness, I think. The teacher said she liked having a game that made them work in groups, and that did something creative. Best of all, it was short and intense--five minutes of frenzy, and then we lined up the Santas to judge. As you can see, it was more about the process on this one.

We all decided which Santa was the Most Creative, Funniest, Cutest, of Silliest. As you can tell, this was not an exact science, and you guessed it, everyone is a winner. Jan my co-room mom handed out goody bags, which each had a pencil, a candy, and then a random toy, like a tiny deck of cards or a yo-yo. You know, party favors. Here's where the OMG moment was. The kids were checking out their goody bags, and I was picking up piles of tissue paper, when a mom got right in front of me and said, "Maybe next time, the kids could all have the same toy. Some of them are unhappy with what they got." Only her inflection was like, "Maybe next time. . ."

A range of thoughts flickered beneath my calm countenance, like koi beneath the surface of a pond on an overcast day. One of those koi/thoughts was, "Maybe next time, you could kiss my ass." But oh dear me no I did not say that, because I don't talk that way. I only blog that way. What I said was, "They are?" And she said, "Yeah, my son thinks this is too girly." She held up one of those ring pops. I said, "Because the bag is purple?" And she said, "No, because it's a ring." I smiled and gave her a shrug, and she turned away.

But several problems with this come to mind. Let me say that it is normal and perhaps expected that a 2nd grade boy would think a ring pop is girly. Perhaps that is their way. But I don't think it is expected that a mom will take up this cause. I can't really begin to unfold all of the problems with this exchange. I ask for your help, Reader. It's like a delicate origami onion. Also, and the broader issue, is that she mistakenly thought this children's party we organized was a forum where she could offer feedback and complaints. That was not the case. The job of a mom attending this party--especially a mom who hadn't volunteered to help organize, not that it's that big a deal--is to show up and be delighted with everything. That is how people do. To her kid, she could have said, "Hon, find out if anyone wants to trade, but that's a kid thing, not a mom thing." Or she could have said, "Say thank you and hush your mouth." Either is acceptable. What is it with me and the lecturing lately? Must be that time of year. Holidays!

Thirteen Things I Gots To Gets Done

Hello friends. We spent the weekend up in Chattanooga at Matt's mom's house. Wintry, lovely and a nice change of scene. And this Friday afternoon, we're heading down to Florida to stay with my parents for a long weekend. But before then, I have to turn this mother out. Bust a move. Put my shoulder to the wheel. Shake a leg. Swink and sweat. Make hay. Accomplish several pressing tasks.

1) Prep for a job interview I have at the end of the month.

2) Have solo fashion show to figure out what to wear for that interview and the conference surrounding it. The black suit or the tan suit? With what shirt(s)? Pointy-toed boots or sensible pumps?

3) Get my hair done. And while I'm at it, get my eyebrows attended to. But when to do this on a weekday? I could get it done at Lifetime Fitness, but the two-hours of childcare per day they offer would not cover the cut and highlighting. I know, First World problem. So I could arrange some kind of thing where I take the kids there and Matt pics them up while I'm still getting worked on. HAIR: DONE

4) Consider going to Lifetime Fitness to actually work out.

5) Figure out if all the food for the second-grade class party is covered. Parents are beating down my door to bring more stuff, so this shouldn't be a problem. DONE

6) Ask co-room mom to go get the gift card for the teacher. And ask if she will make goodie bags from her copious supply of trinkets. (Most of being a room-mom, for me, is asking people to do things. No sweat.) DONE

7) Get supplies for the Dress Your Santa party game. Maybe test-drive this game by having Laura dress Matt. Could be fun.

8) Make 7 sets of slacker fudge for neighbors and assorted people. Find cellophane bags at Michaels and package all the fudge in these cute felt buckets I got at Target. Deliver Fudge.

9) Go by and chat with Frenemy Neighbor to catch up and deliver the message, "Hey, I know we're estranged because of the election and all those "Obama is a Muslim" emails you sent me every day, but can't we put it behind us because our girls miss each other and here's some fudge."

10) Go to Laura's class party which is at 8:30 in the freaking morning. No siblings allowed. Joyeux Noël!

11) Get the dog bathed before we take her with us to Pensacola. And Mom, is it okay if we bring the dog with us?

12) Pack for everybody.

13) Round up and wrap Christmas gifts for people we'll be seeing in Florida.

Okay, I'll probably keep adding to this list, but it feels good to start to get it down in writing. Things have been so crazy lately that I have this constant sense that there's something I'm forgetting that's really important. Like goodie bags for the second graders, or my eyebrows. You know, important.

For lists that are a little more profounder, check out ABDPBT:

3 Things Standing Between Perfect Contentment and Me

Because even though everything is fine, life could always be better.

1)I spray painted three of my fingers just now. This is my trouble with crafts: I have a great interest in homemade and crafty stuff, but I lack expertise, so I try to half-ass it. Yesterday I picked up a little framed needlepoint of a very 70's turtle at Goodwill, priced-to-love at $1.91. It is adorable and I'm sure you will see it, just like you will eventually see everything in my house. But I can't show you yet because I'm trying to spray paint the frame. It's out in the garage. I was too lazy to take the frame, glass, and needlepoint apart properly, because probably thirty years ago, someone put masking tape all over the back of the frame. So I did a quickie job of covering the glass with paper and post-it notes (really, I should put all these tricks in a book), and then when I got out to the garage, part of the paper started peeling up, so I grabbed a pencil and poked it down while I sprayed, and then I sprayed my fingers. They are a pretty celery green, and so far neither soap nor vaseline will get the paint or the sticky feeling off. Spray paint is not like regular paint. It is nasty. Why did I think vaseline would help? Oh yeah, because I was raised to think it was the cure for anything.

2) The house is a mess, and so far today, limited progress has been made, though Matt is valiantly blowing leaves right now. (I know, I know, leafblowers are a nuisance and they are bad for the planet. The first Fall we lived here, we raked. But you would not believe the biomass of leaves we're talking about. Now we blow.) We've got a busy week ahead, but I thought it would be more fun to spray paint my fingers than pick up Legos and do laundry. Matt's mom and brother are coming early in the week for a little pre-Thanksgiving house party, and I need to get my act together quick. Also I guess I'm dealing with some leafblower guilt.

3)I know I'm killing you with this Room Mom stuff, but late last night, I got this cry for help from my co-room mom about our auction basket:

UGH!!! You should see the PATHETIC amount of stuff that was donated. I’m going to have to make a little go a LONG way!! This is going to be embarrassing! :( What do you think we should do? Jan

I told her that I think she needs to stop being a crazy person, wait a little longer for parents to send things in (because the auction is not until December 6), and that she needs to not botch her every email communication with the class, because probably people didn't read her auction basket emails, and that the way she listed each little wooden spoon and bamboo skewer individually probably made people think we had a long list of stuff, but ABOVE ALL, she needs to wait a little longer for items to trickle in. This morning she responded

You’re right, parents must have thought we had enough stuff but I guess I assumed they would each STILL send in an item or separate $$. That’s why I think I screwed up by not being specific about class money. I bet most parents think that it’s for the basket too. I will add my stuff to the basket that I had bought for my husband for Christmas (I was making him a BBQ basket, that’s where I got the idea). I have all the receipts but I will “donate” most of it since a lot of it I bought awhile back and on sale this past fall. I got my husband a great gift yesterday to take the place of the Basket. Did you know you can have a regular photo turned into a painting? It’s all done by computer! I’m having a picture of my kids walking on the beach at Disney made into one. It’s big but it only cost $160. I can’t wait! I almost forgot, I had bought a whole set of dishes at CVS for almost NOTHING. I think it was 90% off. I can’t pass up a deal! They are plastic ones for a picnic or BBQ and I think they have a fish or shell shape. Can I add them to the basket? I still have a whole set of Christmas plates (from CVS) that I bought 2 years ago for 90% off. Do you know a needy family or where I can donate them? They are breakable so I don’t want to put them in a donation bin. Don’t worry, I’ll get the basket done today and it will be fine.

Does this email seem totally ADHD to anyone else? I do think she is very sweet, but she has a touch of The Nutso, and it's contagious. And apparently she didn't hear me at all when I said DON'T DO THE BASKET YET, WAIT A LITTLE LONGER.

So, fingers are green, house is a mess, co-room mom is a little kooky. All else is well, and I hope you had a lovely weekend.

For more list lovin', head over to ABDPBT:

Room Momming: Notes from the Front

"So, how's the whole Room Mom thing coming along?" you ask. Well, when last we spoke of this, my co-room mom had gone rogue, and despite her limited computer skills, was firing off emails and making a grab for various duties that I thought were mine. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I quickly adapted to a new world order in which Jan is doing most of the annoying stuff and I am organizing parties.

Since she had decided to jump in and start collecting money, I decided to start getting the holiday party together. And Jan is also lining up classroom volunteers and collecting items for the class auction basket. To that end, she needed to email all of the parents, and I'd told her how to copy and paste all of the parents' email addresses into her mail. By this time, she had also been the recipient of a mass email that I had sent, which had all of the parents' emails, not blind-copied or anything. Then I get this email from her: "Hi! Can you check this and if it’s o.k., send it to all the parents? I received everyone’s email addresses (thank you!) but I still don’t know how to group them together into one email." Then she favored me with an emoticon.


Okay, so she's not a whiz with the email. Or with basic digital literacy. The teacher in me is always happy to help someone who openly confesses that they don't know something. So I edited (slightly) her memo and sent it to the class, leaving in the superscription thingie that indicated it was forwarded from her. But of course, most parents did not reply to her. They replied to me and told me when they wanted to volunteer. I just forwarded the messages to Jan so she could put them on her schedule.

Then Jan went totally silent for a couple of days. I started to feel guilty because she was doing most of the jobs. So I emailed her and said, "Hey, since you're dealing with the money, do you want me to take over the volunteer schedule?" I even started making a Google calendar for the class. I was going to send it to all the parents and maybe give them the ability to sign up directly for stuff, right on the calendar. Jan never responded to me. But then we got another email forwarded by the teacher, from Jan (who must still be trying to master the whole email situation), with parents assigned to different volunteer slots. So I guess she wants to keep being in charge of that. She is an interesting combination of flaky, friendly, spacy, and territorial. But I can deal.

So, our actual Room Mom activities: The holiday party will be at 8:30 in the morning. Can you believe that? It's such a big elementary school that each class has an assigned time, to minimize parking problems, I guess. So we're doing a breakfasty thing with mini muffins, mini bagels and spreads, and fruit. Jan is handling the craft. And for a game, I suggested the Dress Your Santa game: The kids get in teams of 4 or 5 and each team has a Santa, usually a mom or dad, (but they LOVE dressing the teacher), and they have tape, scissors, colored paper, crepe paper, and cotton batting or cotton balls. They get 5 or so minutes to race to dress their Santa, then everyone judges them. We'll have different categories--funniest, most creative, etc--so basically everybody wins. I thought that would be properly chaotic.

Our holiday auction basket is BBQ-themed. That was Jan's idea. I suggested a Winter Fun basket, where the basket would be a snow saucer, and we could have mittens and scarves, cocoa, ice skating tickets, tickets to ride the Pink Pig, and maybe a wintery movie or something. Jan wanted to go with the BBQ, and she kept saying she had some "great meat rubs." So she has collected a ton of stuff for that, and the basket is a cooler, which will be cute. I sent in this child's apron from Ikea:

Party, check. Auction basket, check. Volunteers are happening. I am actually going in to be the Mystery Reader tomorrow. And Jan's collected a couple hundred bucks already. And again, children in classroom, learning/flourishing. I think we are going to be just fine as soon as I get a handle on Jan's communication style.

My Co-Room Mom Has Gone Rogue

Remember how I told y'all how I wound up being a room mom, and also what the job entails? And I've given you a glimpse of the quirky personality of my co-room mom Jan. Well, now Jan is a loose cannon, y'all. She's off-message and operating on her own. We had agreed on a clear division of duties: I was going to collect donations from parents, keep track of the money, and organize the class parties. Jan was going to coordinate the classroom volunteers and do crafts.

Early last week I saw her at school when we were both picking up from Jump Rope Club. She wanted to send an email to the parents about volunteering for reading groups, but she didn't know how to get all of their addresses into her email system. I said, "Well, you have that directory of all the parents that I sent to you as a Word file. It will take a couple of minutes, but just copy and paste all of their addresses from that document into your email. Then you'll have them in your mail and you won't have to do that again." Okay, she was going to try that. We also discussed how the PTA was still murmuring about their flat-donation fundraiser, and I wanted to wait until that was over to collect money for the class. I said that it was about time to start organizing the holiday party and the class auction basket, so next week, I would send an email about party stuff AND donating money. And she would send the email about reading groups. Fine.

So I was surprised to receive, a couple of days later, an email from Jan, forwarded to all the parents by the teacher. It was a big unbroken block of text talking about the party, the auction, the reading groups, AND saying that all parents should send in their donations made out to her. Whaaa? The really weird thing was that this missive was a .pdf attachment that Mrs. S forwarded. I have no idea how Jan managed to save her message as a .pdf, but apparently the goal of getting all the parents' emails into a message was not achieved. So the email arrived with no subject line, no text, and a .pdf attachment. It was like a Chinese puzzle box.

I didn't know if Jan misunderstood our plan, or just had a different take-away from the conversation, or what. So I waited a day, then went ahead and sent out an email to the parents saying, "You've already heard from Jan about x, y, and z, so let's talk about the holiday party," and so on. Jan emailed me right back saying, "Great job w/ the memo! I can never word things the right way so I’m so glad we are together in this!!" And she favored me with an emoticon:
She said that one mom had given her a check, unsolicited, and it seems that Jan panicked and decided she needed to collect all the checks. Or something. But if she is going to keep track of the money, it doesn't actually leave me a lot to do. I considered offering to take over the parent volunteering stuff, since she is now doing the money. Then I smacked my hand against my forehead over and over until I came to my senses. But maybe I am kind of a control freak, or more likely, words and tone are just really important to me, because I didn't like losing control of our communication strategy.

So that's what's up in Room Mom Land. Meanwhile, the children are learning and flourishing, etc. So all is well, I GUESS.

How to Win Me Over, or, Mother's Little Helper

I just got off the phone with my co-room mom, Jan. I've been trying to reach her today because we needed to touch base, and she asked me to call her after school. The teacher had emailed us and asked us to find twenty small pizza boxes, because the kids are making play-dough maps of Georgia next week. Not sure what that's gonna look like.

So I called Jan's cell, and left a message. I waited. Then I called her home phone, and left a message. Waited some more. She just called me back apologizing for having missed my calls, and explained that her kids were driving her so crazy that she "took an Excedrin or two" and locked herself in her bedroom. She heard the phones ringing, she said, but she didn't want to go out there because then her kids would know where she was.

I actually like her even more after hearing that. It endeared her to me. Plus, she is going to get the pizza boxes.