Friday, May 1, 2009

Odds and Ends

It's been an eventful week. I mean, it's not every day that you lose your kid (thank God. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, read yesterday's story.) So in writing this week I overlooked a couple of funnies.

First: Out of the Mouth of Ains, Tooth Fairy Edition

The kid lost a tooth Wednesday evening. (Yep, shortly after she gave me a heart attack.) We were up at her school for a final open-house-type-thing when it happened and she finally twisted the sucker out, and her teacher and I rejoiced. For a week, it had been so loose as to just be hanging on by spit and whenever she would concentrate on something it would stick straight out of her mouth through her pursed lips. It was waaaay grosser than I can describe it, and it was making both her teacher and I a little queasy.

The going tooth fairy rate in our house is two bucks. Some kids in her class get fivers (their fairies must not be saving for future orthodontics the way ours is), but we feel that $2 per tooth with an added bonus of a Barbie move for that very first one she lost is a fair contractual agreement.

Ainsley may not agree with that.

When she pulled off her pillow Thursday morning and saw the pair of bills sitting there, she sighed.

"When is she ever going to leave me a twenty?"

Second: The Shirt I'll Never Wear Again

Hey, this one happened Wednesday, too. How did I get through that day? The 8pm bourbon helped.

Once Ainsley had been located, I had to pick her up at drama. Given the scare I'd had, I got there early; I just wanted to see her with my own eyes and make sure our little story had a happy ending.

If you don't have a kid in school and your last experience trying to get into a K-12 educational building was your last day of high school in the laid-back world of the early 90s, well, things have changed. The doors to everything but the front office stay locked during the school day and immediately after school, when the office if closed, you're out of luck unless someone knows you're coming and can let you in.

To pick Ainsley up early from drama, or to get into the building to get something Ainsley has forgotten, I have to stand by the front doors and wait for a teacher to pass into view and then pound on the door like a loonie to get her attention. I might have to wait 15 minutes for such an opportunity. And then I have to be escorted to wherever I'm going. It sounds nuts, but it really does make me feel safe that things are this way now, both at the high school I work and Ainsley's school.

Joining me outside waiting for an opportunity to get in was another drama parent. We were talking about the things parents who don't have anything in common besides their kids being in a school activity together would talk about, biding our time, when out of nowhere I got asked the absolute worst question in the world:

"So...when are you due?"

You guys know I'm not pregnant, right? See why it's the worst question in the world?

Weighing no more or no less than I have in about two years, and being what I thought was a healthy size, I was a little taken aback. And before I could even respond, just that quick, I started hating my body. Because if you're not pregnant, and someone asks when you're due, it's not really a compliment.

"Oh, I'm not due. I guess I'm just wearing a really unflattering shirt today."

And though I love the shirt I was wearing that day, it really was to blame. It's one of those big shirts. Not a puffy shirt from Seinfeld, but a pleated A-line shirt that in hindsight made it look like I had something to hide. It definitely could serve as a maternity shirt, though that day, it wasn't. I had been hoping that, with its nautical stripes and loose, jaunty fit, it was giving my look a "spring day on the yacht" vibe.

Instead, it was clearly giving off a "check out the fact that I don't have a waist" vibe.

Of course the parent who said that blushed, and stammered her way out of it, and for a little while I kinda felt bad for her. But then my evil side kicked in and I was glad she was embarrassed. Because unless a woman has a belly that is absolutely HUGE and you can see her belly button sticking through her shirt like a pop-up turkey timer and she's wearing a tee that says, "Baby On Board", I really think that's a question you just don't ask a stranger.

I can blame it on the shirt, but I have also taken it just personally enough to decide to up my workouts a little and try to lose a couple of pounds. Not in this area so much (motioning to my upper body) or in this area (motioning across my hips), but in this area right here (pointing to my apparently largish stomach).

Ah, nothing a little Tommy Boy reference won't fix.

No comments: