I got five emails, all from parents who were pleased and thankful that I consented to take on, and how I execute, the head room parent role. All of those emails had undercurrents of Thank God its not me, and Thank God the auction project is over and I can stop hiding from her and feeling guilty about not volunteering. These emails are lovely to get. These are all nice people who are appreciative. I got a lot of personal satisfaction from the project yesterday, but the nice emails are a bonus. And you know what? I don't expect the nice emails, and I don't do this job because I have a sick need for appreciation or parades in my honor. I do it because I am a control freak and its easier for me to do the job myself than worry about how someone else is doing it. God forbid they do it wrong!
But then, this morning, I get an email from this one parent, who shall remain nameless, lambasting me for the change in plans about singing happy birthday to the teacher. It seems she had to move an important meeting to be there for the song. Her message started with - wait, here's her actual message (the names have been changed to protect the innocent):
Well, that's not good Bored Housewife,
You said only yesterday that we shall sing on Friday, and I had to change an important meeting to make sure I come at 2:00 and told my kid (who was out today) that the celebration is tomorrow...
Also the teacher told me she will be finishing the technology project with the kids and I am coming to help at 11:00.
When did all this change?
Really? I mean, REALLY? How important could this meeting have been if you decided to reschedule it to sing a 25 second song? And, by the way, you're welcome!
This is the same parent who razzed me about how long it was taking to schedule the get-to-know-you cocktail party, but didn't volunteer to host it (so I had to host it) and the same parent who made the time to come to the holiday party in the classroom, but didn't bring anything, didn't lift a finger to help with the party while she was there, and then complained that there was no music. She also asked me in front of people if I have a hormone problem and if that's why I'm so fat. (those weren't her exact words, but that was the meaning, trust me.) This is the same mom who stared at my toenails last year like I had rotting talons, and shamed me into getting a pedicure the next day.
Her daughter is absolutely lovely, she really is. Great kid. But I'm seriously considering asking the teacher to not place her in the same class as my kid next year so that I don't have to deal with her mother, should I volunteer to be head room parent again (which you will not let me do, right? RIGHT?)
So here's the lesson I want you to take from this post, and it is the lesson I learned from having my daughter in a cooperative preschool: when someone is volunteering for a job, when they are doing something for nothing so you don't have to, DON'T COMPLAIN. The obvious exception is if they are embezzling money or something like that, but generally speaking, keep your pie hole shut, unless you're ready to take on that job as your own. If you think you can do it better, keep it to yourself if you don't want to actually do it. If you have a great idea about something that could be done or how something could be done better, unless you're ready to role up your sleeves and get your hands dirty, shut the hell up.
And you know what else? She has a disabled placard in her car, which I presume is for her elderly mother because neither she nor her child have any discernible disabilities; she uses the placard to park on campus when she picks up her kid. I know this because last year when I was ACTUALLY disabled for a few months, and actually NEEDED to park in a disabled spot to get onto the campus, her car was in the way. Now, if there is an invisible disability of which I am not aware, I will eat my hat, but I suspect that there isn't.
This is fair warning: Don't piss off a blogger!
Have a fantastic weekend!
I want to SCREAM whenever I hear start a sentence with "Someone should..." Unless that someone is YOU, keep your big ideas to yourself.
Listen, I love a birthday as much as the next person, but f*ck cancelling a meeting to go sing to a teacher. I mean really, f that.
That woman that sent you the email needs to be slapped right across her insolent mouth. For reals, yo.
Ditto both Lara and Catherinette. And for the record you have lovely toenails!
This is only my second entry and I'm already hooked. Of course, you'll have to fess up at some point about the woman who shall remain nameless
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