Have more babies, karen! you say.
To this I would have to ask if you are HIGH. Yes, I love the little people to pieces, but if I were ever to have another child (which will never happen), I'm fairly certain I'd be carrying him/her on the OUTSIDE of my body, because I'm fairly certain my UTERUS would just drop right out, since I IMAGINE it's only hanging on by a thread now anyway.
But I digress...
I LOVE the nursery school. The ladies who run it are WONDERFUL. They are kind, patient, and lovely--you know; all the things I inspire to be, but fall JUST SHORT OF??? Har har har! I just adore them.
Also, nursery school is a lovely time in a kid's life, unless he/she is a ridiculously shy, self-conscious kid with a great genetic lack of self confidence, and everything--I MEAN EVERYTHING new makes them highly uneasy...like moi, for example. Now, however, I'm either relatively RIGHT ON, or I no longer care. They both pretty much add up to the same result.
Every other day, when I'd bring Ella into her little classroom, all the charming little crotch-high people would be happy and busy: some would be wearing little aprons, perhaps pounding homemade playdough, some would be at their miniature kitchen making meals for the slightly grubby dolls, some would be building towers with cardboard blocks, and the rest would be chattering away to the teachers. In other words, it was a very idyllic scene. And it's all coming to an end.
Last year, when Ella was at the "grad" party, Mrs. C., one of Ella's teachers, read a heart-felt letter the ladies had written about how much they love and care about the children, and when she got to the part about how some of them would be moving on to public school, she was CRYING. I nearly disintegrated right then and there, because my secret is that on the inside I'm actually just a giant MUSHBALL.
And, I'm also a giant CRYBABY. If you want to know the truth, I was just crying as I wrote out the thankyou cards. So what's the big deal, you ask? Shouldn't one be allowed to cry during these TENDER MOMENTS OF LIFE? Oh yes, that's fine, but when I cry, it's UGLY.
|it's a cloud, of course, a big, water-filled cloud|
First of all, I was always the kid who was either crying, or trying desperately NOT to cry. Remember that classic Disney movie DUMBO? Remember when they put Dumbo's mother in chains? Yeah, I was a wreck for the rest of the movie.
If a teacher told me off (which didn't happen HARDLY EVER, square, boring, STRAIGHT ARROW that I was..), I'd spend the next hour trying not to cry.
But it's not just the fighting NOT to cry, it's the idiot, INSANE crying that ensues, once the dams burst. I mean, I could just let some tears roll gently down my face, and look all serene and lovely with DEEP EMOTION, but NOOOOOOO...I have to be a crying maniac, whereby I might get the dreaded grimace face, and be nearly incapable of talking to you--you know; like a little kid, who is crying so hard they're stuttering?
And It's not just the INTENSITY of the crying, that's WAY, WAY, WAAAAY over the top: it's how UGLY the crying is.
Tell me, when you cry, does your whole face become puffy? Do your eyelids puff up and turn red from lashes to eyebrows? How about that rim above your lower lashes: does it turn bright red as well? How about your eyeballs? BLOODSHOT TO HELL??? Oh, and does your upper lip swell out to twice its original size, and turn red all the way up to your red, swollen nose? Actually, is your face ready to explode from all that CRYING LIQUID THAT'S JUST READY TO BURST OUT OF YOUR HEAD?
Oh, and don't even bother trying to blow your nose out in public after one of these episodes. A) You'd need at least two paper towels, and b) the noise would be both horrendous and shocking to any and all sitting around you.
Speaking of paper towels, here's a piece of advice: never bring tissues to a sad event. Years ago, at an uncle's funeral, I was a hot mess, and the tissue my Mom gave me from her purse, disintegrated as I mopped up the waterworks. This I did not know, until it was pointed out to me that I had little fluffy pieces of tissue now CEMENTED to my face. Let that be a lesson to you people: tissues will let you down. ALWAYS bring paper towels.
Thus, I am DREADING tomorrow morning. I'm already sad that my girlie has to enter the world of "real" school, where kids learn how to be jerks faster than they learn how to add and subtract, and most of the teachers either should never have been hired, or should have retired a long time ago.
How on EARTH am I going to make it...(you can't bring a flask of whisky to a nusery school party, can you???)
Oh well, at least I'll be bringing some really bitchin chocolate chip cookies.