First Day of School

Today is the first day of school. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. In reality, yesterday was the first day, but I missed it. For years, "Meet the Teacher" night has been on the same day as the Feast of the Assumption (August 15th). This year, that happened to be on a Saturday, so I assumed that we would meet teachers the following week. WRONG. I got a phone call from the school yesterday asking if we were coming to school this year. Oops. Now seriously, what kind of mom doesn't know what day school starts?

This led me to wonder, how DO moms know when school starts? I think it's one of those things we get when we have our first child, like breast milk or spit that cleans stuff. Well, MOST moms get it -- I didn't. I honestly cannot remember how I knew which day school started for the last four years. They don't send you a letter or call, and if it's in the newspaper, I never read it, anyway. So how did I know? In our small town, everyone knows everything, so the first day of school is easily discovered (I didn't think to investigate this year). Also, there is a sign in front of the school. The thing is, there are also trees on either side of it, and this year, the trees have finally become tall enough to hide the sign. I am not sure if the other people in town stop their cars to read the sign, but most of the time when I am driving, I am listening to six children scream at the top of their lungs, so the last thing I want to do is prolong the trip to stop and read a sign. Hmmm....

So, my theory is that the other moms are all in a perfect mommy club. I have seen signs that this club exists. For instance, I am the ONLY parent who didn't know what day, or even week, school started. I am also the only one who sits outside of the school to pick up my children without knowing a soul around me. The other people all know each other by first names and chat non-stop while I pretend to be very interested in the cloud formations or whatever stickers the Kindergarten class has stuck to the window. Or the times that I have driven through town only to have to take a detour because the entire town is in the street for a sidewalk party or carnival I knew nothing about. This may come from my refusal to read the newspaper, or perhaps because I drive an hour away for church, which takes me out of at least fifty percent of our town's social life.

All things considered, I still believe in the perfect mommy club. There are some moms who have been so bold as to bring homemade snacks to class on "snack day". C'mon...a normal mom doesn't have time to sit around baking fresh goods to take to her kid's class to be devoured by thirty whiny kids she doesn't even know. Sounds like a bunch of perfect mommies hanging out in a big kitchen spending their days coming up with new ways to torture us normal people.

Don't get me wrong, I do bake -- I love to bake, in fact. My kids are cookies snobs who won't eat a cookie out of a package and roll their eyes at "pre-mixed" dough. However, when I do find the time to bake, I seem to lose that bit of time which allows me to take a shower, work out, dress up all nice, and show up to school with a box of whatever has come out of my oven. Also, the other kids are rude, and I don't want to share with them. I only want my kids and our guests to eat my cookies. They are made with love, and I refuse to just hand them out willy-nilly. I am NOT a perfect mommy.

Another proof of the perfect mommy club is the Letters to Santa article in the paper every year. (Okay, sometimes I read the paper, but only if it has my kids' names in it.) Each year, the school sends home a sheet on which we are to help our children write a letter to Santa to be published in the paper. These letters show up all through December, and are grouped by class so that you can more easily compare your child to other kids his age. When I get this assignment, I give it to the older kids and let them write what they want. With the younger kids, I ask them to tell me what they want to say to Santa, and I write it word for word onto the paper. Invariably, it goes something like this:

Dear Santa,
I want a Power Ranger and some skates and that's it. (At this point, I may suggest they say please or ask Santa how he is, but they usually decline.) Ummm...The End.
From, _______

That's it, that is what they want to say to Santa in full. No manners, no stories, no "hey, how's Rudolph and Mrs. Claus". Every year, all of the letters are the same, and I send them into the teacher. Then, when the paper comes out, I rush to buy a copy and show the kids their letters. Every year, my kids' letters are surrounded by the letters from their classmates, and every year, I see more examples of perfect mommyhood. For instance:

Dear Santa,
How are you doing at the North Pole? Are Rudolph and Dasher quite well? I don't need anything for Christmas, as I had so many gifts last year I had to give half away to children less fortunate than I. If I could have one wish this year, it would be to end all of the suffering in the world, and for my little brother to have the bike he wants so badly.
Thank you, Santa.
Love, _____

Ok, so either this kid got an extra helping of manners, kindness, selflessness and grammar, or his perfect mommy helped him write a letter from the perfect kid. (Note: I should say that my kids have very good manners most of the time -- it just doesn't seem to show up in their writing, yet. Gotta' give credit where it's due!) Here is another example:

dear santa,
for chrismus, i want a doll, and my sister wants a dollhouse i am in preskool, so i am sorry about the speling.
luv, ______

At first glance, this seems like a real letter. The problem is, most kids in preschool cannot write anything but their names, and even if they can sound out words, they aren't going to apologize to Santa for their bad spelling. Sounds to me like a perfect mommy wants their child to look extra cute in the paper this year. I'm just saying.

I don't mean to sound bitter toward the perfects or anything. I am sure they are perfectly nice and perfectly well-meaning. Really, I am. I just want to know how to BE them. I want to know how a woman who spends all night nursing a baby and cleaning up throw-up can show up to school the next day with a perfectly fitting outfit over a perfectly toned body, with perfectly manageable hair, matching shoes, driving a perfectly clean car, and dropping off her 1.5 children who are also perfectly clean and well-dressed (homework finished and in their bags). I want to know how she keeps her house clean when she is at work all day, and when does she have time to work out? I want to know how she has managed to scrapbook every minute of her kids' lives, and still have time to make dinner from scratch every night and worry about if her kids are getting their clothes dirty.

I just want to know. I want to join the club.