Wake up! I’m still talking about the cold here. We’ve now entered the season where I can’t wear my wedding and engagement rings anymore, otherwise they’ll fall off. (I know, get a ring guard—I’ve already been told.) This worked to my disadvantage last Friday after work when I stopped to fill up my car. A man approached me and offered me a free newspaper (those of you who know where I work know exactly what newspaper I’m talking about). I didn’t want it, but I didn’t want to be rude either, so I took it. Then he sort of snatched it back and said, “You can have this on one condition: if you marry me!” Oy. I was all, “There might be some legal difficulties there, heh heh heh please get away from me.” Then he proceeded to take me a prisoner of conversation at the gas pump and determine where I live, where I work, which schools I went to, and how I got accepted into them.
On Monday when I got home from work with Elaine, Lucy met me in the driveway. “You’re probably going to be mad, Mom. Try not to get too upset,” she said. “What about?” I asked. “Mrs. Blevins sent home all these paper bags, and you’re supposed to make Indian vests for the whole class out of them.” “You’re joking, I know,” I answered. “Daddy put you up to this.”
Then we walked into the kitchen to see the huge pile of bags on my kitchen counter. Does the woman not read this blog? Apparently not. Shocking. But did she not see the pathetic drum I made last week? Why why why why oh why would I be the one parent out of the entire class selected to make 23 brown paper Indian vests? (And there’s a pattern, people. A PATTERN I have to follow.) When I picked Lucy up from school on Tuesday, Mrs. Blevins said, “That’s ok, right? The Indian vests?” “Oh sure!” I chortled. “Not a problem!” She answered, “Well, I thought it would be ok because you said it was better for you to do stuff at home since you can’t really come in the classroom to help out.” I said that? When did I say that? That does not sound like something I would ever say. Does it?
Then today I took Elaine to get her picture taken for her third birthday. It was about time because here is the last time she had her picture taken by herself:
When Lucy was her age, Darren took her in around Christmas. He called me from Penneys. “There are about 30 absolutely fantastic shots of her. I can’t even pick. You need to help me.” He was right. Every picture was frameable. With Elaine, I was just hoping for one. Not that she’s not a cute girl, in my opinion. It’s just that, whenever she meets someone she doesn’t know, or that’s she met only once…or three or four or eight times…actually, really anyone outside her immediate family, she puts her arm up over her face like she’s Princess Diana running from the paparazzi.
I had a long, repeated talk with her about how it's ok to be shy but not to be rude. And how a nice lady would take her picture, I would be with her, and she needed to be friendly and smile. It took her a little while to warm up (the arm came up in front of the face at first), but then she did beautifully. Every so often, her face would fall and she would say sadly and quietly, "I want my mommy," so she would come over to me, I would cuddle her and tell her what a great job she was doing, then she'd go back and take a few more pictures. Apparently it was so draining for her. Fortunately, by the end, I had a lot to choose from (and Penneys is running a 50% off sale!)
As a reward, I took her to Subway in the food court and let her pick out an M&M cookie. It cost $.53. As I rummaged around in my purse, I realized I had only $.26. I sheepishly handed the lady my debit card. "Oh, don't worry, it's on the house." When I protested, she said, "Honestly, it's no problem!" I was so embarrassed, like Elaine and I were taking charity and would soon be in a Lifetime movie called the "Christmas Cookie Miracle" or something. We pretty much just took the cookie and ran. No more Subway at the mall for us.
Now we're home, and she decided she'd like to watch The Waltons because Lucy is at school all day today. As for me...I've got twenty-three vests to make out of paper bags.