Mommy Gossip

I am sooooo unclear on our school's sick policy--as in: When is it OK to take your kids to school and when should you keep them home? Raging fevers, green snoggies, runny stuff coming out of their little booty bums. These are all no brainers. But what about a kid that has red eyes. I mean, he does have allergies. Or, maybe he's just a bit devilish that day. Where's the harm in that? But, it could also be a cold. So, the analysis begins. To take him or to keep him? And the internal debate goes like this:

Self to Self: Is he too sick to go to school?
Self Back to Self: I don't know. His eyes are red and he is sniffling.
Self to Self: But this is the FIRST DAY of his entire school career. He can't miss his first day. The bonding. His first little snack time. Eating school lunch before discovering that it is disgusting. Learning the rules when it is still cool to obey the teacher. All of it. His whole school experience will be tainted if he misses these precious 6 hours.
Self Back to Self: Screw it! They'll call me if he's NOT following whatever-the-crap sick policy they have.

FAST FORWARD 2 HOURS AFTER LITTLE LEO IS SAFE AND SOUND IN HIS NEW SCHOOL...

Self to the Wind: Wait! Don't they have a Family Guidebook that I just supposedly read and then signed? Doesn't that spell out the sick policy? Oopsies!
Self Justifying to Wind: Oh! Well! They didn't let me take him into the classroom to have my one chance of a photo op with him. They get what they get!!! Hope they don't throw a fit!

Leo. School. Started. First day. All-day kindergarten.

Sounds like I desperately need some sort of a quick fix, huh? For those of you that know how verbose I am, choppy communicacion can only mean one thing: lost. mommy. her. mind.

Frustration set in when T-Daddy at the ripe old hour of 9:00 LAST NIGHT told me he had to work early today and couldn't drive the kids to school. The anti-morning person that I am SHRIEKED. How many people do you know that can drive while asleep? Oh! He wants me to wake up! This is where that ever-so-common realization sets in that your life is not your own. That subtle reminder that you are a mommy and it's not all about you anymore. WHAT? (Why do I keep questioning this?)

So... I get us to the school--in one piece, mind you. Then my lingering frustration turns to aggravation (almost enough to assault), because the school's parking lot is only big enough to house the teacher's cars. WHAT? I guess since they get paid pittance for their profession they should get first dibs, but where's the love for me? Isn't my youngest leaving the fold, so to speak? Why should I have to walk the 5 minutes from the nearby park (5 minutes is a lot for someone who should still be in bed)? See how I am still struggling with the it's-all-about-me thing--must be the early-hour-without-bed-sheets-still-over-me syndrome.

THE ENDING: I get him off with only a picture in front of our garage door to show his future wife and as I am driving out of the school's parking lot, I start to cry, recognizing that all of my frustration, aggravation, and whatever else emotion I am feeling stems from one scary place: my Little Leo (emphasis on the word LITTLE) is out of my hands... Oh! My! Where's my bed????