The school called...

Every time the phone rings and I see "S A ISD" on the caller ID I cringe.  That stands for San Angelo Independent School District and it means that Haley has managed to convince someone that she is going to die if they don't let her call me right now.  Last year, I'm positive of this, they had me on their speed dial, and honestly, no lie, Haley called me twice a week.  She can get anyone to believe that she is sick, she can make herself throw up, and she can develop a fever on demand.  There were several times last year that I flat-out refused to go up to the school and get her, and once Scott even left work and drove over and threatened to take her to an orphanage if she did not go straight back to class.  

The first thing the lady told me after I confirmed that I was, in fact, Mrs. Starr was that both my kids were fine.  She then told me that one of the forms Haley had brought home for me to fill out was not signed at the bottom.  It seems that there are special grants and whatnot to be had if you have military kids in your school; this is per Amy, who knows everything there is to know about schools and good schools and bad schools and school rules and the like.  So the schools here send home forms once a month or so for parents to fill out with questions that seem to not pertain to anything, like "Have you or someone in your family worked on a farm in the last 6 months?"  I mean, seriously, what is that about?   And do marijuana farms count, or just real live farms?  These forms are hard!

I told the lady I had to pick up my son from preschool and then I'd be by to sign the form that for some reason she could not just send home with Haley again so I could sign it here.  She also told me that No, she couldn't just "sign it for me."  I don't know about you, but these office "helpers" don't seem to be very "helpful" to me.

I got Skylar up and changed her diaper and the thought occured to me that she hadn't taken her morning poop, as I notice and think about these sorts of things constantly.  We drove to the preschool and on the way Skylar complied and took a poop.  A HUGE one.  And my gosh did she stink to high heaven.  And I had no diaper in the car because I have no diaper bag.  I did buy a diaper bag on ebay and it was a Vera Bradley one and it was lovely, but Scott hated it from the moment I triumphantly pulled it out of the mailbox bragging about how I beat out all the other people bidding on it.  I think I carried it twice before I decided that yes, it was butt-ugly and I sold it on ebay for a higher price than I originally paid for it.  Score!  So then I bought another diaper bag on ebay that was super cute and homemade and it's about big enough to carry a pacifer, which we don't need to carry because Skylar carries that.  Which means we have no diaper bag to speak of.  I have rectified that by purchasing a really cool brown diaper bag with pink skulls on it and it should be delivered any day now but the post office here is the definition of "slacker" and really, who knows if it's coming or when.  

I carried Stinky Skylar into the school and Owen was sitting at a table counting the dots on the dominoes.  You know, I really wish I made this stuff up, but I don't.  That's what they're teaching him?  Anyway, he looked up and I noticed that his nose was all scratched up and he had a huge red bump on his forehead.  I asked Ms. Jeannette (which I sort of feel is an old lady name but she's like, 26) "What happened to his face?" and she told me that the playground was too wet for them to play on (I can't remember when it last rained) so they went to the volleyball courts to play and Owen fell and could I please sign this accident report for the school file.  It seems that a while back Ashlyn got hurt at school, and I was never asked to sign any "accident report."  Owen said his face didn't hurt, but that his friend Maleek told him there was blood on it.  

Then we drove to the girls' school to sign the paper I forgot to sign and I guess the poop was some alien kind because the smell intensified 100 times over and Skylar was almost climbing out of my arms in attempt to get away from it.  So she started crying.  And Owen started crying because I wouldn't allow him to go to Ashlyn and Haley's classrooms to see them.  Oh, and because I wouldn't go get them and bring them home with us.  So they were both crying, and Skylar's butt smelled so bad that my eyes were watering, and we came home and Owen wouldn't get out of the car, and Skylar screamed when I sat her down in the poopy diaper so I could go drag Owen inside, and finally I just gave up and started drinking.  Because when life throws you lemons you slap a little tequila on it and bam!  Now that's the lemonade I'm talking about!