Yesterday was the "Thanksgiving Feast" at Jack's preschool. Picture little kids and their parents sitting in too-small chairs at teeny little tables... eating sliced turkey and a potluck spread of whatever the frazzled parents could prepare.
I got up all bright and early to prepare the mashed sweet potatoes I had been planning to make for over a week. I had purchased the raw yams a few days in advance, just so I'd be totally prepared. Then? Well, first, my sour cream went missing. So I had to fudge the recipe a little to figure out how to make them taste right. You see, they're one of Jack's favorite foods, and I was working on improving the image I managed to gain when I officially became "The Mom Who Forgot To Pick Her Kid Up From Preschool" last week.
In my defense? I thought T was picking him up that day, and I was wrapped up in a photo shoot. But? I am now "that mom". You know the one -- she shows up with her hair in a frizzy mess, two different socks, and the shmear of baby puke on one shoulder. And she sometimes forgets to pick up her kid. Because, you know, she's a little flaky and the other moms kinda think she's maybe a drunk, but she's really just a bit scattered and it's totally the ADD and this is why I am in therapy so just get off my back, will ya?
Phew. Um... yeah. I might need to cut back on the caffeine again.
SO! I finally get the sweet potatoes made and in the crock pot. I get Toby, myself, and our plethora of gear into the car. We head down the road. And then? And then I have to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting some ... um... (deep breath) "very inconsiderate person" who slammed on their breaks in order to take a left turn off the main road without so much as a signal. And the crock pot? You guessed it. Not anchored well enough. So it flings sideways, the lid flies off, and sweet potatoes end up all over the floor of the car. Well, maybe not ALL over, and I did manage to stand it back up before too much of the orange mush escaped.
In fact, maybe it really wasn't so bad. I mean, I didn't even have to pull over -- just used the dish towel that was wrapped around the base to scoop it up and dump it out the door onto the side of the road. Not so bad, right?
I call T to tell him I'm now running a bit behind, and luckily he is almost at the school already. I'm breathing a sigh of relief as I drive down the road, telling him that I think maybe I'm not cut out for this whole Classroom Mom thing when - suddenly - I realize the construction on Route 9 has begun anew and they have stopped traffic. Unfortunately for me, I realized it about a second before the guy in front of me did, and ended up slamming on the breaks again.
You already know what happened next, don't you? Oh yes, my friend. Over went the crock pot, out came more potatoes, and Toby learned some brand new words, which - thankfully - he is too young to be able to repeat with any clarity. ("Look honey! The baby says "donut" now! Isn't that sweet?")
So there I am, scraping mashed sweet potatoes off the floor mat of the car and dumping them off on the shoulder of the highway, right where it ran across the river. All I could think was, "Man, the deer are absolutely going to get nailed trying to get out here to eat this mush." Then, hands sticky with what was fast becoming orange super-glue, I finally came upon the idea of using the picnic blanket we keep in the car as padding to keep the crock pot upright.
SO, a long-ish period of time, several dish towels, and one yam-soaked picnic blanket later, we finally arrived at the school in time to see the high school students who help with the class give a rousing rendition of "5 little turkeys" with enthusiasm at a level falling somewhere between "emergency root canal" and "Diagnosis: Murder marathon".
All in all, though? Jack had a terrific time, it was sweet to see his classroom in action and meet the teenage girls (who, by all indications, are totally smitten with my kid), and the look on his face when I let him push Toby's stroller back to the car was absolutely priceless.
Next time? I might just skip all the beginning stuff and go straight to letting him take his brother on the joy-ride. With all the bells and fanfare, it's still the simple stuff that brings out his biggest smiles.
Ah, to be 3 again.
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