Ditzy, Who Me?

Saturday Night
Last Saturday, my husband and I went on a date. We ate at Mongolian Grill, which reminded me of the last time I ate a similar place. As I reminisced, my husband said, “Um, I’m sensing a little negativity here.” He went on and on, which made me laugh, which is good because it could have easily gone the other way if I’d been married to a lesser man. If I was married to me, I definitely would have left myself years ago.

We saw Stepford Wives, which actually made me laugh out loud a couple of times. My friend, Lisa, said she saw it and it was a complete waste of time, except for Bette Midler, but I enjoyed watching Nicole Kidman act up a storm.

I laughed, too, in the lobby when we ordered popcorn. The round-faced teenage boy handed my husband his change and said, “Do you like my singing?” At least that’s what it sounded like to me. For one moment, I looked at him quizzically, then realized he actually said, “Would you like a receipt?”

Enormous Bosoms on Display
Yesterday was Kindergarten Parent Day. My husband came home from work so I could go and spend the time with YoungestBoy. They had activities from A to Z (airplanes to zoo) set up throughout two classrooms and the multi-purpose room. YoungestBoy and I did nearly all the activities, even jump-roping, which, as a rule, I avoid.

While YoungestBoy was playing with Gak (a clammy concoction made of glue and Borax, sort of play-doh-like), a pair of oversized knockers at the next table over caught my attention. A mom was sitting on a kindergartener-sized chair, leaning over, putting her “girls” on display. She wore a fire-engine red shirt, with undone criss-cross ties highlighting her cleavage. Those ties probably would have not sufficiently laced up her assets anyway, even if she’d attempted to corral them. Even though I have my own pair of larger-than-average milk producers, I couldn’t take my eyes off this woman’s boobage. I wonder how the dads managed.

Near the end of the day, the children were sitting on the floor in the multi-purpose room, eating ice cream. I was taking pictures of YoungestBoy and his buddies when I glanced up and noticed the tatt00. Then I realized: Tattoo Mom and Abundant Bust Mom was the same mom!

The Slug Race
Every kindergarten year ends with the traditional slug race. Children hunt for slugs in their gardens and yards and bring them to school. YoungestBoy found a medium sized slug. His slug was the first in the starting circle on the round butcher-paper covered table. Four other slugs joined and then Mrs. Hopkins said, “On your mark, get set, GO!” The slugs didn’t even blink.

On your mark, get set, GO! 

Then one smallish slug stretched out its slimy feelers and headed for the edge of the table. YoungestBoy’s slug sat like a lump. He looked at me with genuine concern, then back to his slug. Forty kindergarten children crowded around the small table, shouting. Four slugs sat. One slug slid. YoungestBoy scowled at me again and said, “Mom! My slug is going to lose this contest!”

YoungestBoy (in yellow) is unhappy with his slug’s performance.  

His slug did lose the race, though I had to leave before it ended. Apparently some girl took home his slug, but as a consolation prize, Mrs. Hopkins gave me him other slugs. He brought them home in the Kerr jar, and they now sit in my kitchen windowsill, the newest family pets.

Kindergarten Graduation
This morning I was still snuggled in bed, trying to stay asleep, when I heard footsteps and a gentle knock at my door. “Yes?” I said. “Mom,” YoungestBoy said as he opened the door, “Can I go down to the laundry room to play with the kittens?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And mom?” he said. “Don’t forget. Today is my kindergarten graduation.”

My husband, being the amazing man that he is, came home yet again today during Babygirl and DaycareKid’s nap, so I could go to the school to see YoungestBoy graduate. I was surprisingly dry-eyed, though the teacher nearly cried when she mentioned this was her first class ever and how she’d miss the children. The kids were just ready to go! I took lots of pictures and wondered how my boy’s kindergarten year could possibly be over already.

While sitting in the room crowded with parents and grandparents and siblings, I saw a baby with the biggest head. Seriously. He seemed to be about a year old, but he looked exactly like Charlie Brown, except for the striped shirt and saddle shoes.

When the festivities ended, I took YoungestBoy down to our little town’s ice cream shop. I noticed that the barbershop across the street was empty, so on the spur of the moment, I said, “Hey, want to get your summer buzz cut today?” He agreed, so we went to the barbershop first, where the barber buzzed off YoungestBoy’s blond hair. Weirdly, the barber’s right arm was fractured in two places, but after only 12 days the doctor removed his cast and said he didn’t have to wear it again. So, he cuts hair now with a broken arm.

The End
At one point this afternoon, I had eight children in my house. I called my husband to point out that I had eight children in my house and he said, “Oh, just what you always wanted. You used to watch Eight is Enough and dream of having eight children.” Which is not true.

He says I will miss the children when they are gone, but on days like today when I am so tired (I just finished typing a 100-page statement last night), I would like the opportunity to see if I miss them. Could someone please take them away for a week?