Busy Bee

It was “Dress as Your Twin” day at school – a day where kids get “spirit points” for their “colour squad” if they dress the same as someone else, and my kids took it to the extreme, dressing in the exact same outfit, down to the socks and underwear.  Extra points for that?  I am volunteering in Jake’s class this afternoon; apparently I will be cutting things out and gluing them to other things, which is certainly not my forte.  I hope I don’t need to use a glue gun.  The last time I volunteered for such an in-class activity, it was when Mark was in kindergarten and I accidentally stabbed myself in the hand with the scissors while cutting out doors on milk-carton birdhouses.  I was, apparently, not modelling good scissor behaviour. 

I thought it would be sort of fun to help out in Jake’s class, but evidently I am the only one.  Jake is not exactly thrilled by this invasion of his personal space, so it’s good that his teacher phoned last night and asked if I would do the work in the library, not the classroom, as it is too crowded.  The other day I was bringing a backordered book to his classroom, and his entire class was so! excited! to see me! but Jake continued to just do his work like I wasn’t even there, responding to my greeting with a talk-to-the-hand type nod of his head.  Later he chastised me a little: “I’m supposed to be doing work, not getting distracted.”  Okay.  This is the same child with whom I fist-bump when saying goodbye in the school lineup.  I’m not sure what is going to happen when he’s a teenager. 

I have a very busy weekend ahead of me, socially.  Normally my weekends consist of a whole lot of nothing, but I actually have two events this weekend.  One is my husband’s office Christmas party, and so I will wear a nice dress and heels and everything!  I really love office Christmas parties, even the super boring ones, because I get to wear a dress!  And eat food that is not prepared by me!  And engage in small talk!  I am the motherfucking queen of small talk.  I can small talk with everyone from your elderly aunt to inanimate objects.  BRING IT ON, PEOPLE, and how about all this snow?

The second event is a vegetarian potluck at one the home of one of my beautiful yoga friend’s.  I am tasked with dessert.  My husband not-so-secretly wants to sneak in hamburgers.  Speaking of which, I received a copy of Rachael Ray’s new cookbook for review.  I accepted because cookbooks make me squee, but I’m realizing now that Rachael Ray’s recipes are not exactly vegetarian-friendly.  There is bacon in everything, including the cupcakes, which seems very, very strange to me.

I have been doing a lot of volunteering at the school, and so when Jake received forms for swim lessons I quickly stuffed them into their envelope without checking off the “Yes! I can volunteer!” box.  NO I CANNOT.  I refuse to stand in the wet, gross, germy change room with hysterical children, trying to locate someone’s sodden socks.  I loathe the school swim lessons anyway: the way the kids never, ever pass a level, the waivers I have to sign indicating no liability if my child drowns or gets hit by a car walking to the pool or succumbs to death and/or dismemberment in running-on-the-deck related ways, the way the lessons are always in the dead of winter and the children all seem to be hacking up a lung or wiping their runny noses in the pool.  No, I will not volunteer to supervise in the change room.  I just hope to escape dismemberment myself from today’s volunteer activity.