Meet the Teacher. And other forms of Parent Torture.

If there is a Hell, then I’m pretty sure I’ve been there.

In fact – I just barely escaped – twisted ankle, diaperless baby and soaking wet to boot. 

This hell was in the form of Nicholas’s “Meet the Teacher Day”. 

It sounds rather innocent – right? 

Back to School

My big boy and Baby J on the way to meet the teacher. The calm before the storm.

Unless it’s 100 + degrees, you have no idea where you are going, you are going with your ex and his wife and there are about 5,000 other families crammed in one place just as confused as you are. 

Oh – and if you also wear high heels.  Because I didn’t realize we would be taking a ten-mile trek around the campus (which might I add is at least twice the size of my COLLEGE campus…and that  is just the elementary school). 

Oh -and you forget your baby stroller.  For the 10-mile trek in the 100 degree weather in your high heels carrying a very heavy and cranky toddler. 

I mean, it’s not like I could very well ask my ex to carry my baby now could I?  So he carries the school supplies and I schlep a 25 pound toddler(did I mention I was wearing heels?).

We were told to meet in the cafeteria.  Unfortunately, no one clued us in that Nic’s new school has FIVE of them.  And we show up at the wrong one.  And of course it was on the other side of the campus (ummm…anyone heard of signs?).

We finally made it to the right cafeteria.  Along with the rest of the population of West Tulsa County.  (Did I also mention that I live in EAST Tulsa?  But that’s a whole ‘nother blog). 

Seriously?  These are all going to be Nic’s classmates?  All 5,000 of them?  We are completely shell shocked.  It is worse than School Field Trip Day at the State Fair.  Minus the animal smells.

There are so many lines – you can’t tell what is what.  Or who is who.  And it is so hot my underwear is beginning to sweat. 

Lines for enrollment, lines for bus stops, lines for lunch program, lines for car tags.  You name it – there is a line.  unfortunately, there is no line for a bar.

Actually, having the exes came in quite handy – as we were able to divide and conquer the labyrinth of lines.  (gotta find the silver lining somewhere). 

Somehow, in the midst of the chaos – Baby J manages to take off her diaper.  Completely off.  It is gone.  And I’m not about to go looking for it in the sea of people.  Do I have another one with me?  Of course I don’t – because  it’s in the car –  which is 10 miles away.

We finally get the golden ticket.  We can actually go MEET the teacher (we had only been there for over an hour at this point).  And is his classroom in the same building?  Of course it’s not.  That would make things just way too easy.

Again, we trek to another part of the campus and finally find the blessed building.  (While I’m holding paper towels inbetween my baby’s legs praying that she can hold it for a few more minutes).  Seriously, do we REALLY need to meet the teacher?  We have all freaking year to get to know her…

Anyway – we find the classroom.  A cute little teeny bopper bounces up to us.  Must be someone’s big sister.

“Hi!  I’m Nicholas’s teacher!”

Ummm.  What?  Are you kidding?  Are you even old enough to drive?  And you are going to teach my child?

Before I can reflect on the realization of how freaking old I am – Baby J has managed to destroy Miss Teeny Bopper’s cute little display.  In less than five minutes. ( It was actually quite impressive.)

On that note – and before the inevitable pee all over the floor – Baby J and I get the heck out of there. Pretty sure I won’t be asked to be Homeroom Mom. 

Ten miles and a twisted ankle later (I will never again wear heels)…we made it to the car.

As we sped away – I noticed a flurry of paper in my rearview mirror.

Yep – that would be Nic’s school handbook that I left on the hood of the car.

Back to School

The remnants of Nic's school folder.

Sure hope we don’t need that.

(P.S.)  Yes, we made it back from vacay.  Almost in one piece. 🙂  Blog coming soon on our road trip adventures complete with milking goats, petty theft and our encounter with the only tornado to hit the Rocky Mountains in a bazillion years.  Stay tuned.

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About marniefernandez

Official kid wrangler of four. Step mom, adoptive mom & bio mom. City girl turned country bumpkin. Small town girl next door married to Hollywood sniper/moto-cross/ninja architect. Career girl turned stay-at-home mom with baby on hip. Permanent taxi-cab driver, schedule organizer and professional laundress. (When not chasing kids...) Mommy blogger, columnist, travel writer and consultant. And no, I don't sleep. And yes, I take Prozac. And drink wine from sippy cups.

7 thoughts on “Meet the Teacher. And other forms of Parent Torture.

  1. Where is he going to school?!! I get to do that on Friday at Ainsley’s school…but her orientation is confined to the school gym each year. 🙂

    Oh, and being somewhat of a redneck, I actually like the animal smells at the fair! Haha! 😉

    • Ok, Marnie, very good article. It is SO true-all of it. Thanks for the read! It is so funny to see how you have changed over the years and I mean that as a huge compliment!

  2. OH how I can relate to that! I have had similar meet the teacher/back to school nights. – the ex’s!

    Isn’t it amazing how a baby can make a diaper disapear?!? Good to know it’s not just my kids!

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