next up, moby

Monday started somewhat as expected. I'm definitely sick with something low grade, more ick than yuck, but manageable compared to previous fair this season has offered. I'm upright, and basically just having body aches and a bit of vertigo.

Something inner ear perhaps? Whatever it is, it better not take up residence for long or I'll go postal on it.

Anyhow, threatening to pull out the raving lunatic face essentially means nothing to the germs within, but the going crazy will directly effect the subject or possible focus of future posts. Pray for a quick recovery. Too much whine and cheese makes for bad reading.

Moving right along - in the morning SB and I confirmed that we had all the necessary parts of Bumper's nursery co-op registration filled out. Money, are all cheques filled out properly - yup, police check - Bumper has a reputation - completed, all the policies understood, initialled and signed. So much to do. Such a huge folder for such a wee person.

Off I went, forms, medical records, our complete family tree, sworn affidavits from ten friends, and the last seven years of our tax returns tucked under my arm. Not an accurate list of the folder contents, but it kinda felt like that. Across the street I went, heading toward the site of our Bumper's very first independent(ish)* activity: Nursery School.

Effort was actually exerted when picking the place (I know! Someone lazy like me in the parental sense, not just taking the closest available spot). Research and visits and searches were conducted by lil' ol' me: lazy butt. Damn proud of that feat. And confident. Kinda.

And yes - it's just a coincidence that this is the closest Nursery to our home - no really, it is.

As for independently(ish)* - word choice due to the fact that it's a co-op and I'll be there on my duty days. Now that should be interesting. Having so many minds to warp at one time, will definitely prove challenging.

Arriving at the gate a few minutes before the registration was to start, a few others were already crammed into the small mud room. The staff was inside the glass doors making prep for the mad rush of parents - many who brought their offspring. I was thankful that this task could be done alone, because personally I was too distracted to parent. I'd probably show off my fine mom skills when Bumper dismantled their photocopier and kidnapped the turtle while mom was lost in thought.

It's a lot of non-refundable money, I thought while tapping my foot and trying to distract myself with small chat with others. It wasn't working - I couldn't stop thinking about how this might be wrong. Maybe she isn't ready to go to school.

No, that's silly. She really needs to get out and meet other kids. She loves organized activities, she survived her first sleep away without a peep. It's the right thing to do.

Registrant #4 goes into the interview room - I'm number five. I could just leave now.

Good gawd, I never noticed that mural on the wall during the tour. It's of motherf**kin' clowns. Six of them.

This is wrong... I should of seen that... what else did I miss?

The clown on the far left looks like that creep out of Saw. This isn't good.

A bead of sweat actually formed above me ear. Am I hyperventilating? Why am I freaking out like this.

Snap out of it. If I was Nick Cage to your Cher, my cheek would be smarting.

Sure, I knew what this freakout was really about but couldn't I find one lame-ass reason that would give me license to run. Because the one about not wanting my daughter to be growing up this fast is just not cutting it.

Moby came in on my left.

Mental note: take this post down or edit before other parents find me out.

I really don't need or want Moby crapping on me.

But seriously - dude was a dead ringer.

Wonder if his kid is nice. Better be.

Gawd - what if she has a class of total bullies and knobs? Wait, her best neighbourhood buddy is registering also. Please let them be in the same class.

I'm gonna faint. I can feel it.

Gripping the sides of the chair and looking completely insane, the room opened and they call number five.

Last chance to leave.

Getting up and putting on that fake smile that I've donned too many times since becoming a parent, I entered the room and sat down on the mini classroom chair. Thrust my hand out, said my name loud and clear, and smiled. Passing myself off as a confident parent. I hope.

It's the right decision but it sure as heck doesn't make it any easier.

Must remember to suggest a repainting of the murals on clean-up day. You know, so I can't blame the flippin' clowns.

She's in - we got our preferences and now I have weeks to fret over our decision. Fun times ahead.