Well, what a Friday I've had! Full of fun activities!!!
Let's go in chronological order...how in the world could little old me possibly alienate preschool Moms??? Well, just bring up the idea of participation trophies in front of me and be ready for the alienation.
Matt had fallen down crying on the playground after preschool. He was faking, but that allowed me to get out of my current conversation and into another one. Someone mentioned how nice the weather was going to be for soccer tomorrow and if they were doing the same medals for the younger kids as they had for the older (I have inside information as Husband was a coach this year). I said that they were doing the medals and they were so cute and such a better idea. Then another Mom (that I don't know that well at all) mentioned how she was bummed that they weren't getting trophies.
At this point, I should have walked away...I get it.
Instead, I went on a rant about how trophies are for winners and, at the very least, for kids who actually place. At the preschool level, they don't even play real games, so giving them trophies is just setting them up for disappointment in the later years when they actually lose a game and don't get a trophy. This mother then said how nice it was to see them all lined up on her son's shelves and how much he loves them.
I have to say, at this point, I actually did change the subject rather than telling her about how the shelf of participation trophies held as much weight for me as an empty drawer. If you're constantly telling kids that they're "winners," how will they be able to cope when they actually lose something and walk away empty handed??? Be proud...I changed the subject instead of bursting her bubble...who am I to be a bubble burster?
We finally get home and I'm dying to take a shower. I took my first Combat class today and it was no joke. After 15 minutes of "helping" the Crazies decide on a movie (which was more difficult then me picking a husband), I went upstairs to shower. Husband picks that moment to call and catch up, so I decide to disrobe while we're on the phone.
Kinky, ain't we?
Anyway, Hailey had to call me down to cut the tag out of her sweater (like she didn't just go through all of school and the entire morning with that tag, but it HAD to be cut out at that very moment)...which was annoying enough, but then Matt starts calling me right as I was getting ready to jump in the shower.
WHAT? (I screamed with a totally annoyed note to my typically angelic voice)
Someone's at the door!
WHAT? (because I'm apparently deaf too)
It was at this moment that I did something that I will never do again. I left my bedroom buck ass naked to see if my son was indeed telling me the truth. We have windows along either side of our front door and thank the Good Lord above (if I capitalize His name, He knows I'm serious) that the FedEx dude had enough decorum not to be staring through those windows because he would have seen some serious white girl action.
I dart back into my room (screaming because I'm that mature) and hang up on Husband who just wants to know who's at the front door. I sprint down the stairs and open the door. The FedEx dude isn't new to chicks in robes, but that little fact doesn't make me feel any better about myself. I sign for the package and rip it out of his hands. I yell someone about the first initial being an "R" and slam the door. I thank Matt profusely and run upstairs to phone Husband that his much-anticipated iPhone had finally arrived.
I am a good wife.
I finally shower and get ready (while maybe playing game or two of SongPop) and head downstairs. I'm STARVING at this point, but the Crazies invite me to watch the end of The Incredibles and how could I resist? I get snuggled up on the couch with them, put both arms around the loves of my life, and listen to them settle in as Matt says, "this is awesome." Life is good.