Five Things I Need in a Bestie

Bestie goals.

So I haven’t posted a new blog in over six months. Why? Well, I won’t bore you with details, but mostly because life. Because stress. Because marriage. Because work. Because 4-year-olds. Because 8-year-olds. Because writers block. Because summer. Because back to school.

Speaking of back to school, my daughter just started kindergarten at the school where my son is currently starting third grade.

If you read my most recent blog post, aptly titled People think I’m a Bitch, you may already know that I’ve struck out pretty hard when it comes to snagging some new mom friends from my son’s class. Apparently hiding behind trees to avoid social interactions does not win you any points in the new friend department. But I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf with my daughters class this year. I’ve been given a second chance with these mamas and this time I won’t screw it up. Heck, I’m already planning my future blog entry titled “People Think I Couldn’t Be More Fucking Awesome.” I’m gonna leave that one at the top of my blog for even longer than six months this time!

Sorry for the painful cliche, but this is a new year and a new me. No longer will paralyzing social anxiety leave me hiding behind trees (and no, not just because there aren’t any trees shading the front entrance where the kindergarten classes are dismissed). I’m going to slap on a smile, maybe swallow a Xanax or two, and get my ass in friend-making mode. This year I will meet my future mom friend BFF.

Full disclosure (and before she kills me) you should know I already have a bestie and she’s, well, the best. But whatever, she works a lot.

So here’s the thing. I just have a few small requirements for my future bestie. I know, I know, someone with a social circle the size of a cheerio shouldn’t exactly be picky, but if we’re gonna be sharing wine and bitching about everything from husbands to homework, then she’s gotta fit some necessary criteria. Like the following:

She must drink wine. Like copious amounts of it. I’m not really into that whole “oh I need a glass of wine, I had a rough day” crap where you literally drink just ONE glass of wine and then act like it made an ounce of difference in the shittiness of your day. I want my future BFF to be the type of chick who goes “oh today sucked” and then guzzles a whole bottle before ordering $300 worth of Christmas decorations on Amazon and passing out on the couch with her hands in a half-empty bucket of Party Mix.

She must not be a judgy bitch. Look, we’re ALL guilty of passing judgement here and there. But you can’t be a total witch about it. Like if we’re at the park with the kids or something and I see a woman breastfeeding her kid and  I’m like “hey good for her, breastfeeding her kid in public and not giving a fuck about what anyone thinks” and then you’re like “oh gross, she should put those tits away,” and then I’m like “well the baby’s hungry, it’s no big deal” and you’re like “oh but there are kids around” and “I’m like yeah totally, there’s one even hanging off her boob” and then you actually walk over to the poor woman and tell her to go feed her kid somewhere else, then not only can’t we be friends, but I will loudly call you the C-word before asking Public Breastfeeding Mom to squirt some boob milk in your bitchy, judgemental face

She must watch trashy reality TV. If I send you text during the Bachelor asking who you think is SOL on getting a rose this week and I don’t receive a response within exactly five minutes, then this isn’t gonna work out.

She must not be too weird on Facebook, Instagram, or any other social media site. I guess it goes without saying here that she needs to also be ON Facebook and Instagram, mostly because I’m a huge fan of the screenshot and she should be too. I don’t have any specifics for “not too weird” but if your kid comes down with some hideous rash and you post a photo of it, asking for opinions from all the Google University doctors on your Facebook page instead of consulting an actual doctor, then that falls into the “weird” category. Also weird? Is the compulsive desire to post nauseating pictures of your significant other every day, declaring your undying love for all the world to see as often as possible. Aside from an overabundance of daily selfies, there’s nothing more likely to get you deleted, or at the very least, politely hidden. Don’t mean to sound bitchy, it’s just that if I don’t even want to see your face in my News Feed then there’s no way I want it anywhere near me in real life.

She must dislike talking on the phone. There are very, very, VERY, few people whose calls don’t go directly to voicemail (or they would, if I ever bothered to set my voicemail up in the first place), and I’ve known all of these people for over 30 years. So unless you want to wait til we’re in our sixties to chat, let’s just stick to texting, k?

Are you out there, future bestie?

The Thing About Preschool Parent Teacher Conferences

preschool chairs

Photo credit: Kevin Nealon. Yes, my child’s preschool teachers are famous comedians.

 

Preschool parent teacher conferences. Sigh. What’s the point? You don’t want to be there. Your kid’s teacher doesn’t want to be there. But through some glitch in the guilt-inducing dynamic of modern parenthood, here you both are.

If you’re on the first kid, you might not mind it so much. You may even be excited about the meeting, visions of your toddler’s Picasso-esque artwork and miniature Mozart music abilities dancing in your head. “She’s the sweetest, most intelligent, mature, loving, and generous  four-year old I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing” the teacher will gush. You’ll swoon with delight as the compliments continue until your head is so big it fills the entire classroom and you both float into outer space.

Uh, yeahhhh….good luck with all that. Here’s how it really goes down.

You plop down in a chair seemingly designed for members of the Lollipop Guild. Your child’s teacher sits directly across from you in a seat equally as ridiculous. You scan the room for signs of tornadoes and flying monkeys.

Off to gleaming start.

The teacher pulls out your child’s latest artwork, a moving depiction of the friendship between an 18-legged purple giraffe and her pet cloud. She tells you that the detail on the drawing is impressive and you bob your head in agreement, wondering wtf they spike the juice boxes with around here and how you can get your hands on one.

Next she hands you a page that appears to be your child’s attempt at writing her own name. The first letter is clear as day, and you temporarily swell with pride. Her fierce little “S” has more curves than Beyonce! And then you peer at the following 13 or so letters that may or may not be written entirely in Greek. Or Klingon. Who could tell? You warily glance up at the wall where little Liam scrawled his own name on a drawing like some preschool handwriting prodigy. Pshaw, whatever. Anyone could write a measly four little letters. Moving on.

The teacher explains that your child is doing well in most areas but needs improvement on holding pencils the right way. Apparently she uses the same technique for drafting her masterpieces as she does for stabbing her toaster waffles in the morning. Hopefully she enjoys writing as much as she enjoys drowning food in maple syrup.

Next the teacher asks if you have any questions and that’s when you really start to squirm. What do the other parents usually ask? How can she enhance her cognitive development? What activities will improve her gross motor skills? Are her social interactions on par with what is expected for her age group?

The thing is, all you really want to know is whether she wipes her boogers on the classroom furniture as frequently as she does at home. And where the hell does that little witch Jenna live? You’ve got a bone to pick with her about drawing on other kids’ Peppa Pig blankets.

So you reluctantly tell the teacher that, no, you have no questions. You then stare awkwardly at each other for a moment, not sure if the meeting is over or whether she’s waiting to divulge some hidden gem about your kid’s sick cymbal skills during music time or her unfailing ability to nap far longer than any of the other kids in the class. After a moment you concede that your child is just about as normal as any other four-year-old. You need to hightail it home to catch a new Grey’s Anatomy anyway.

Quietly praying that the shrunken chair doesn’t tag along for the ride when you finally yank your ass up out of it,  you thank the teacher politely and say goodbye. You then walk back to your car wondering if other parents feel as underwhelmed by these things as you do, or if you are really just an asshole.

You Know it’s the First Day of School When…

blogSo it would have been nice if I’d posted this on the actual first day of school (which was Thursday here in NYC), but like many of you, I drank a little too much celebratory wine that day and was in no position for organized thought. The memory is still quite fresh, though, so read on for some classic first day of school occurrences.

1. Every other post in your Facebook newsfeed is a picture of a kid sporting a new book bag and a forced smile.

2. Staples looks like Toys R Us on Christmas Eve.

3. Your teacher friends are all on suicide watch.

4. You made the face in the above picture trying to locate everything on your child’s supply list.

5. The line in the haircut place was even worse than Staples.

6. You lost your toddler at least once amidst the chaos of first day dismissal.

7. You managed to avoid hitting too many red lights, but you still got stuck behind at least two school buses.

8. So. Much. Contact. Paper.

9. You’ve mentally prepared a list of all the parents you hope to avoid running into (and inevitably end up seeing them all). Side note: I just gave myself an idea for a future blog 😉

10. You forgot to set your alarm and almost missed morning drop off.

–or–

You pressed snooze so many times you almost missed morning drop off.

–or–

You missed morning drop off.

11. You’ve made a long list of things to do when the kids leave for school, but instead you spend the morning drinking coffee, watching TV, and liking everyone’s first day pics on Facebook.

12. You have so many permission slips to sign that you stop reading them after a while and just start signing. You’re not sure, but you might have just accidentally nominated yourself for PTA president.

13. You haven’t heard the words “common core” in over two months (but that will change very soon).

14. You spent a small fortune on brand new fall clothes for school and you’re dying to see how great the kids look in them. Too bad it’s 85 degrees and humid.

15. Your daughter tells you her best friend isn’t in her class, and it’s a straight up crisis.

16.  Your eyes sort of watered a bit when you dropped off your youngest, but you’re not entirely sure if they were tears of sadness or tears of joy.  Probably both.