Emma goes to preschool three afternoons a week. This is a very good thing for her as she can run and play and hold other little girl's hands and do something on her own without being in the shadows of her older brother and sister.
This is also a very good thing for me because I get to miss her a little bit. It is hard to miss a little person when they are with you 24/7 and they ask you things like "Mommy, why is your butt so big?" or "Mommy can I have a snack/drink/toy/pot of gold?"
I truly do miss her while she is gone and I am very excited to see her when I pick her up. At her preschool they do not want all of the moms traipsing in and out of the building asking question, looking at art work, or even making suggestions like "My Timmy is ready for multiplication. Do you think you could introduce multiplication to the preschoolers... somewhere between wiping their own butts and blowing their noses on a tissue and not on their arm?" Instead, all of the moms get to stay in their minivans and line up waiting for their child to come out to the car with a teacher and off you drive, never having to compete with the other preschool moms for the best parent award in the hallway.
Each day when I pick Emma up I am very animated with my greeting. I happily sing "HI EMMA! DID YOU HAVE FUN? I MISSED YOU! I AM SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!"
I am a good parent and I want the teacher putting Emma in my car to recognize this. I imagine her walking away from my car thinking "Goodness that June Cleaver is such a good mom-look at how thrilled she is to see her precious child. She is a shining example for moms everywhere."
Well... the jig is up. Emma called me out on my "phony" greetings.
She told me I needed to stop being so happy to see her. Basically she said I needed to take a chill-pill. Then she made me practice my greeting to her so that it was to her satisfaction. Now I am only allowed to say "hey Em, how ya doin'" Just like that.
It was a sad sad day let me tell you. It was the day that I knew might one day come, but I didn't think it would come so soon. It was the day that I realized I am an embarrassment to my child.
I remember when I was a kid my mom was gong to chaperon a school field trip. I was horrified! The night before I made my mother go through her entire closet in order to pick out an outfit that would not embarrass me. You have to understand that for most of my childhood my mother wore two different pair of pants, one was a purple polyester pair with diamonds all over them and the other was a green polyester pair with brown stripes. My mom suffered from the same disorder that I suffer from... the one where your children suck your checkbook dry of all funds and therefore you have to walk around looking like an idiot in 14 year old jeans and a sweatshirt that you wore in college.
I would like to publicly apologize to my mother right now. I am sorry. Sorry for being a brat and thinking you weren't cool. Oh, and I am also sorry that I told you that you looked like a nerd the last time I saw you in those brown pants that you wear that are too short although I think you may think they are supposed to fit that way. They are not. Sorry for making fun of your hair too for those few years where you thought you would grow it out a bit... it didn't look good and I was only trying to help. I am really sorry for making fun of your eyebrows as well. They do need to be shaped... and not with a razor like you like to do it but with some hot wax and tweezers. Sorry...
Lord help me... my children are exactly like me. The only consolation I have is knowing one day Emma's child will look at her and say "Mother, please drop me off at the corner... and do you really think that blue eyeshadow looks good on you?"