Not only did Bee get separated from all of her friends (I know she will make more friends – we just LOVE these ones), but she also got the “playtime” kindergarten teacher.
Not the one I specifically requested a few months ago from the principal.
Yes, I AM that mom.
And now I get to be THAT MOM who marches in to the school office and demands that my kid get put in the class that I want her in.
Or I could just be engulfed by my vagina.
Get it? I could be a huge pussy?
Most likely I will force Mr. Bee over to the school to discuss things with the principal since I’ve already done a bunch and I super suck at confrontation (see as reference: my life). Any suggestions from parents who have been in my position before and/or teachers who could suggest a way to not completely insult everyone and still get what I want?
Oh, and my name is totally going on that “moms who suck” list in the teachers’ lounge now.
Song title: Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry]]>
Anywho, so I’m pretty sure that if I didn’t have the vaginal scars to prove it (and if she wasn’t completely delightful, brilliant as all get out and isn’t the spitting image of me when I was her age), I would be totally convinced that Bee was not my child.
Okay, I’m only joking.
Because she is just sooooo timid.
If you haven’t noticed, I’m not sure many people who have ever met me would categorize me as timid, shy or wallflower-esque. In fact, I’ve gotten loud, boisterous and inappropriate, but never shy.
But Baby Bee has got to be one of the most timid little girls I’ve ever pushed out of my vagina!
Okay, yes, she IS the ONLY child (boy or girl) that has come from said va-jay-jay but that is neither here nor there…
I mean, I get the apprehension around strangers. Hell, I’m screaming “Stranger Danger!” half the time in my head, too. But with her grandparents? Or her besties that she sees, oh, maybe 85 times per week?!
And sometimes I feel so guilty about pushing her in to activities. Yesterday, we started out our day by going to a bouncy house place. She took one look at the bouncy slides, et al, and was all “Hells to the no, mom.”
No matter how many times I bounced up and down (looking like an overweight buffoon who could quite possibly pop the bouncy house, I might add), she was NOT interested. So while her friends played happily in the bouncy houses, Bee and I sat on a couch nearby, eating a bagel and watching the fun from a safe distance.
It wasn’t until I’d had enough (I mean, I wasn’t going to completely waste the $6 I just spent, right?!), that I grabbed her and carried her up the stairs of a bouncy slide. She screamed…and cried…and fought with me…and loved every second of it.
And she proceeded to make me join her on approximately 800 trillion more trips down the slide. Now I was a big fat buffoon dripping sweat. (Super hawt.)
The same thing happened later in the day when all the kids came over to enjoy our new Costco-purchased super kiddie pool. (It’s super awesome – photos to come shortly) All the kids were playing in the freezing, hypothermia-inducing water, except for Bee, who preferred to splash at the water’s edge.
Again, it wasn’t until I forced her in to the pool against her will that she discovered she loved it and even got hooked on sliding down the slide and splashing in to the water again and again!
I’m guessing this kind of apprehension is normal in a two year old, right?
‘Cause God knows, those other parents don’t appreciate the sweaty buffoon eating up all the bouncy house time.
Song title: Timid Frieda from Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris the Musical]]>