Why are you having a glass of wine at 6pm, mom? BECAUSE OF OPEN HOUSE, THAT’S WHY.
3-5pm the paper said. That’s when I wanted to leave, EARLY. Get there early, get in, get out. At 3:15 I start corralling the troops, and my 9yo’s like “But I’m hungry, I want oatmeal.” Okay….
“Wait, where are we going?” She says.
“To the school for Open House.” I respond.
She gasps. “WHAT? I can’t wear this!?” And she drops the oatmeal like it’s on fire and runs upstairs, reappearing 10-15 minutes later in a SEQUINED GOWN AND HEELS I SHIT YOU NOT.
“Um, kiddo? No. You can’t wear that.” I break the news to her gently, but, inside I’m dying.
I hear her upstairs (above me) raising a ruckus. I don’t know if she’s throwing shoes, or buckets, or IDK! But she’s raising a ruckus finding a new dress.
AND THEN COMES THE PAIN. BABY V SAW THE DRESS. SHE SHRIEKS. SHE HAS TO HAVE A “SPARKLY” DRESS TOO. And nothing they’re putting on her baby body comes CLOSE to the level of sparkliness that my 9yo’s sequins have.
I check the clock. It’s 4pm, no oatmeal consumed, 9yo is dressed, 4yo is throwing a hissy fit of epic proportions. Moments later, she emerges in one of her older sister’s dresses, content to leave now. We are seemingly ready to go, yes!
But my cheering is seemingly premature. My 7yo can’t find his shoes. He can’t find ANY SHOES. As if the child hasn’t worn shoes all week (and, apparently, he hasn’t). “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN’T FIND HIS SHOES?”
We look in the “shoe closet.” We look outside by the trampoline. We look in the minivan. THERE ARE NO MATCHING SHOES TO BE FOUND, DEAR GOD, WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!?
The funniest part about it – we had just found a missing sandal at our friend Mary’s house over the weekend. This is the child that karate-kicks his shoes in the air for maximum distance, and apparently ninja-kicked one into thin air, ‘cuz that b**** was GONE. Only weeks later did they finally find it under their porch. We had JUST brought that sucker home, and THAT shoe was gone, too! HOME-SKILLET HAD NO MATCHING SHOES AND HIS OPEN HOUSE WAS GOING TO END SOON. OMG!!!
I enlisted all kids on deck to find him something, ANYTHING. Older son was trying to auction off his old shoes that didn’t fit anymore that were two sizes too big. Thanks, pal, but he doesn’t need to look like a clown to meet his teacher. And we couldn’t even dig into his new school shoes because WE HAVEN’T DONE BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING YET BECAUSE WE’RE SLACKERS IN DENIAL! This is the EPITOME of last-minute shopping, even for us. But, still..
Finally, after a little digging, we found the “found” shoe from Mary’s, and he finally had a matching pair. HOOFREAKINGRAY! Of course, it was 4:30, but what does it matter? It ends at 5, right? No big deal? Tons of early folks who went early were leaving, surely it would be quick and painless, right?
The kids were absolute crazy-pants spazzy. Loud voices “LOOK MOM, I SHOWED HER HOW TO SAY THE A-B-C’s!” Doing splits in the classrooms “LOOK, I’M DOING A SPLIT!” I SWEAR I DIDN’T HYPE THEM UP ON SUGAR BEFORE WE LEFT, but HOLY HANNAH, when the second grade teacher asks you, double-checking he has no “health issues” to state on the parent paper, it makes you question whether you should’ve arrived to Open House with a flask, or a little wine in the water bottle. Probably a poor choice.
So.. now you know.. when we finally got out of the Open House late (forgot about the #deathbypaperwork) and got home, it was almost 5:45. It’s Friday night? WHY NOT CRACK OPEN A FRESH BOX OF WINE. PLEASE, AND THANK YOU.
Damn, back to school night. Damn shoes and sparkly dresses and fashionista toddlers. But, thank goodness for boxed wine on a Friday, man.