Show and Tell Thursday: A Rock

Yes, yes, I know; A Rock.
Well, Babelbabe went and stole my idea. Okay, she probably had the idea first. And I'm a bit out of new ideas. And the camera with the photos of the Show & Tell Piece is at Montessori, forgotten in the mad rush to get out of there today.

Yes, it was Kindergarten graduation at Glory, Glory Montessori. With all the pomp and preparation, I fully expected the Governor to be there. Really. But I juggle two little ones' schedules every day, and can't be relied on to be anywhere at exactly 'x'. I run by 'ishy time' as in "I'll be there 11:30ish." In fact, we keep Ishy time all over the house. No Clock it set at the same time. And some are eternally a flashing 12:00. It drives my parents nuts. However, I am usually early when I need to be somewhere at a certain time. But, not today. The Pre-K didn't have a graduation ceremony, just the 5 graduating Kindergarten children got a diploma and book. I had half an hour from 10-10:30 to Do Something special for the ceremony at 11:00 (which I knew I would miss, but hey; I did not have a graduate!) so I reckoned I was putting a big entry in the Oh-Ah Ledger by showing up with 60 - count 'em, 60, large helium-filled balloons, plus 5 mylar graduate balloons. How I fit the huge bags o' balloons in the minivan is anyone's guess, but there you have it. I must've looked like a crazed clown in middle-aged-and-she-forgot-her-meds-today garb. Of course, the wind picked up when I screeched to a stop at school - with exactly 7 minutes before I needed to be at Youngest's school to pick up him and his buddy. I get as many bags in my hands as I can, and I nearly take off into the skies like Mary Poppins sans her umbrella! I did a quick Backyougo with 2 of the bags and trotted into the classroom. And was immediately attacked by 21 eager little balloon-getters. Then 2 balloons hit the popcorn ceiling and POP goes the mood of the room. Now there are Big Eyes and silence. What to do? What to do? The Montessori Director proclaimed "No Dragging The Balloons Across the Ceiling!" Great - except I had the balloon place put Extra.Long.Strings. on the fool things.

*sigh*

I dash back to the car, get the other bags, and hand them off for distribution, loftily pointing to corners 'that looked lonely' and areas 'that needed cheering up'. Okaaaaaaaaaaay. But the childrens' faces? They are grinning ear to ear. It's a veritable balloon Flood!

I speed off to get Youngest and his buddy from preschool. Make it 2 minutes late. Then get a phone call from dh; he is intending to pick up Youngest NOW to take him for a repeat Dentist visit. (The dental visit will get it's own post at some point; right now I'm still too exhausted by it to relive it.) Hmmmm - Youngest and Buddy are in the back, happily talking about what they are going to play when they get to OUR house, which now isn't going to happen; I am going to have to swing Buddy by his house and unload him to his mama, then swing Youngest home for an Oh Joy trip with his daddy to the dentist!!! Whoop-di-fuckin-wooo! Does my husband not know what a Change of Plans does to 2 little boys teeter-tottering on the always-exciting autism spectrum?! Does Buddy go catatonic when we pass our house and continue to his house? Does he then start screaming in the car seat? Does Youngest join in so I have full stereo? Do I get beaned on the head with a Hot Wheels metal car? Certainly! Yes. Yes. YES! Do I whip the car over to the bike lane (empty thank God, or I would've certainly maimed someone - scary!) and bellow "WHO THREW THAT CAR? WE DO NOT THROW CARS IN THIS CAR. OR ANYTHING. IN FACT, WE DON'T THROW FITS IN THIS CAR! UNDERSTAND?"

Silence. I put the car into drive and we drive, silently, to Buddy's house. I look in the rear-view, and Buddy has his face in his wee hands. Oh great! Now I've traumatized our darling Buddy. Who calls me Mama and hugs me. And loves me with a fierceness that amazes and delights me. And I have hurt his feelings. Badly. I have to pry him out of the car seat and hand him off to his lovely mama. I hold him and smooch him and tell him we will try again tomorrow.

Dh shows up at home eventually, and Youngest is ecstatic to go errand shopping with his daddy! "Mommy, we go furniture shopping!" he exclaims with glee. Dh and I lock eyes. HUH?! OH! We have been furniture shopping quite a bit lately, in search of media room chairs to replace the sofas that have given up the Ghost. (More on that later, too) I switch to Pig Latin and plead with dh "Ix-nay on the Ental-Day alk-tay." He says OTay - and leaves with a grinning child. He calls me 2 minutes later and I hear the screams in the background. It's Going To Be A Long Trip To That Dentist. Heh heh heh...

I jet off back to Montessori and arrive there for the party. Oldest is disappointed that I missed the ceremony, and is a bit sulky. I start scavenging food for Youngest, who will arrive after the dental appointment. I hope they don't have to sedate him, as I am counting on this for his lunch. Our schedule is That Full today. I pluck pepperoni slices off a now-cheese pizza slice, and snag a juice box. And another one. Oldest taps me and states, forlornly, "Mom, every other mom and dad was here. Mine were not. That's not right." I agreed with him. Told him I bet that made him feel badly. What I really wanted to do was run out in the alley and kick something. How could I NOT have planned this better?! It was a big deal. He wore pants that he swore made him look 'like a dink' and a crisply ironed white button down.

*sigh* The balloons did not trump the missed non-graduation. Learn this from me, my friends.

And the balloons? A Huge Hit. Preschoolers and their siblings gleefully ran around the shady playground sporting balloons on ridiculously long strings, which then proved to be hanging hazards! Keee-Rist! Then the Primary kids came out (2.5 - 4) and they all immediately wanted balloons. Major Forehead Whack~of course the little ones would join us! We needed 25 more balloons! ACK! Then the fighting started. I'm telling you; you see what folks are made of when a 3-year old goes after their child's balloon. I'm just saying - I'm glad this was a Montessori crowd. A public school crowd? Might've SHOT at each other, or something...

I eventually started to deny I was the Provider Of the Balloons. I pointed to strangers and said "Oh! Go thank HER!" Oldest's teacher went very Un-Montessori on me and gave me a pretty firm *Whack*

Oh? And May I just complain for a moment? Dh came into the schoolyard with Youngest, and I took the opportunity (remember, the balloons and lunch had to be guarded, at this point) to run back into the classroom to get the digital camera. Or so I thought. Dh bellows "I need to get going back to work!" like another 1 minute is going to get his ass canned! I Hate this. The non-primary parent does One Little Thing (okay, it was a big thing, but crikeys; it took less than an hour!) and then fling the little charges back at you, brandishing that 4-letter word "Work!" like what the primary parents does isn't work? Arggggggh - Okay, spleen vented.

Youngest chowed down at a small picnic table. He used the dinosaur he got from the dentist as a weight for his balloon, and he had a few other trophies as well. I swear, every child in there came over and pawed the merchandise! Staring intently at Youngest, who gave them Double Intent right back. You cannot stare down this child. I decide I've had it. Say to Youngest, who has a chunk of pizza left, "We're leaving. Finish your meal." And a minute later, all that was left of us was dust. I have never been so glad to get into a steaming-hot car in my life. When I hit the wall, I crash. As in, crawling out of my skin gotta get outta here crash. The boys have learned when I say "We're leaving" to grab stuff and start trotting after me. We got out of there in the nick of time. The balloon wars had started.

We get home with 15 minutes to get Oldest some actual lunch, as he doesn't like pizza or chocolate chip cookies. Ah, no - here comes the speech therapist for Youngest. So Oldest and I drive to Chik-Fil-A and he has a wrap and punch. The guys behind the counter give him some flak about not eating kiddy food. He solemnly states "I like wraps. But not the tomatoes. I wish you guys would make them without tomatoes. I like salmon, too. But you guys don't cook fish." The guys were dumbfounded. So it was just the two of us; me with a Real Coke (I have told Diet Soda "Adios"; more on that later, too) and Oldest with his Real Food. It was 30 minutes of heaven. Oldest and I de-stressed. I rarely get just one on one - the boys seem to be a pair. I need to work on that. Youngest is a mom-hog.

Then we drove home, visited with our incredibly wonderful speech therapist, and had a half an hour to Just Lounge. Did I lounge? HELL NO. I did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, etc. Then drove to TaeKwonDo and wrestled Youngest into a version of Being Quiet that wasn't too terribly loud.

And the rest of this story? Well, I must go pick up the digital camera. Which, of course, got left in the dust with our Quick Exit from Montessori.