I swear I was snapping pictures of our life along the way. I just didn't put them out there to the world. Well, lets pick up on the very next day after
one of my last posts. I had lovingly made a cute little first day of school teacher gift and lined up all of our bags. It was adorable.
The next day I dropped Peyton off on his first day of 1st grade. And, y'all, the struggle was real.
I think I mostly captured the good moments from the year, but first grade was not a friend to either Peyton or me. Somehow we made it to the last day without much blood, lots of sweat, and some tears. I know, you're thinking "First grade couldn't have been THAT bad." It was.
Exhibit A:
The Day My Kid's Teacher Tried to Disinvite Me to the Class Party
It was the end of the year class party for first grade. One thing I have to give Peyton's school was that they were consistent. Every class in the school had the same class parties at the same time on the same day every year. Not so great if you have twins in separate classes, but pretty great for scheduling purposes. So I'm the kind of parent that has next year's school calendar downloaded into Outlook and written into the day planner (you know, as back up) a few months before school begins. (It is May 27th and I may or may not have the calendar for third grade nailed down.) So I was aware that we had an end of the year party coming up. Also. They schedule the End of School Parties on ... wait for it ... the last day of the school year.
Lets just say the teacher had trouble with communication. Or trouble with me. I am not 100% sure, but I CAN tell you that a very good friend of mine had a kid in the same class and we had very different experiences.
By that point I was very familiar with our first grade teacher's email address as we had exchanged... words ... via email ... all year. And she was familiar with mine. That year I was a pretty involved parent. By the end of first grade I was coordinating the volunteer art program and in the building once a week either for classroom volunteering or art stuff. So the idea that she could forget to include me in the email to ALL of the class parents on the end of the year party preparations is, well, pretty unbelievable. But "it happened". Two days before the party (and the last day of school), I texted my friend with a kid in the class and asked if she had seen a sign up sheet or some kind of assignment for what we were supposed to bring. She said she got an email THREE WEEKS before. OOHH I was mad. And I was gonna... send her a heated email.... or something. Over the course of some texting, my friend convinced me to split Capri Sun duty with her and just show up at the party.
So I did.
The teacher seemed so overwhelmed by the kids and the parents and the sugar that she didn't notice the uninvited guest at her party. No problem. I stationed myself directly next to her scooping ice cream for the sundaes she was providing to the kids. (seriously, who gives first graders ice cream sundaes??) (also, you should know that this is a huge passive aggressive slap in the face from me. Once upon a time I had it written into contracts that I did not cut cake or scoop ice cream. True story.) (yeah, I get that she wouldn't know that. Keep reading.) She was still unfazed and we were engaged in some kind of passive-aggressive-over-the-top-faking-it collegiality. It was awesome. It could be argued, up to this point, that it was the end of the year and she seriously did not realize that she didn't include me in the party planning and had no clue that I had just showed up. Doubtful, but could be argued. (you have no idea how many of my emails that woman ignored.)
It could be argued... Until the very last kid came through the line and she TOOK. THE. SCOOP. OUT. OF. MY. HAND and said "oh, I can do the rest". Not an exaggeration, y'all. There was ONE KID left. My hand was grafted to the scoop with ice cream goop at that point. So I smiled my best
Edmond Mom smile and let the ice cream scoop slide off my hand into hers. Stringy lactated sugar and all.
I washed my hands and never looked back. I collected my sticky second grader and we blew that popsicle stand. To this day, I remember my last words in that school to Peyton: "Be sure you got everything, because we are not coming back."