whipped

Yesterday I was called into the Gigi's school directors office.

I know, I know, who thought it would happen in her second week of school?

Surely it should have happened during the first week when I went to pick up Gigi and found her holding a boy twice her size in a headlock - but I never question authority and what they chose to address - I just run.

Anyhow, I was called to the directors office to discuss their website redesign because that's the committee I volunteered for at her school. It was that or making play clay every two weeks which sounded waaaaay too involved. I'd rather be doing familiar nerdy stuff than taking responsibility for making the consistency of dough just "so" for a loud bunch of ankle-biting critics. Those kids are brutal with their feedback.

So there I stood in front of the directors desk, sweating a bit due to flashbacks from my own childhood but replace "really nice director" with "Sister Mary Margaret Donaghy". I was trying my best to stay focused on what needed to be done for the school website and remember that I was not in trouble. Yet.

But I still had this edge of nervousness.

Now I don't know about you, but when I'm nervous, I do one of two things: I either shut-up and remain uncomfortably silent to the point where people ask who's the mute in the corner OR I babble incessantly and just share way too much information. Neither are attractive and I once again am reminded that I really need to find some new coping strategies.

Anyhow, at this particular moment I chose to babble incessantly and babble I did. We talked about sites that I've helped create, graphic work I have done, and that's when I slipped... I said I blogged.

Oh my gawd, did I just tell her I have a blog?

Before I could stop the crap as it poured freely from my pie hole, I babbled about blogging and tried to keep it just to my wonderful preschool stuff (eg. clean and clear of f-bombs) over at Savvy Source Toronto (though my most recent post was about drinking without the kids). But then I remembered my bio at SS. My bio contains links to my other blogs. My stomach dropped as I mentally reviewed almost three years of posts here at motherbumper.

Hey - has anyone else gone back into their archive to read old posts and said "sh*t, did I write this post? holy crap, what was I on?" No? Just me? Great.

I figured I had said nothing alarming about the school (except about that scary clown mural in the lobby) but I still felt kind of woozy from my self-inflicted outing. I wonder how do super heroes deal with this kind of shit? But then, I doubt many super heroes out themselves out of stupidity.

Anyhow, I was kind of hoping for the earth to swallow me up right then or there in the office, though I would have settled for a fire-alarm or small earthquake to change the topic.

Just then, I heard a loud booming voice from the doorway behind me. I turned to find the source.

There stood my daughter, hands on hips, with a look of suspicion on her face. Her eyes said "what are YOU doing HERE?" She had that eye-brow cock just-so. It was obvious that she was not pleased with my presence at her school, during her time.

"MOMMA" she declared loud and clear, "You must leave. Right NOW!"

I smiled at her and nodded. I knew enough to know not to argue with her lest I bring out the side of Gigi I do not want the director of the school to see.

Then I turned back to the director and smiled rather helplessly.

The director looked at me, then carefully asked "Did Gigi just tell you to leave?"

I nodded slowly and kept smiling that helpless smile.

Great - so not only does the director of my child's school now know I blog, she also knows that I'm completely and utterly whipped by my daughter.

Then I heard Gigi yell "MOMMA" again from the area outside the office. I glanced back to see her standing there giving me the perfect stink-eye that spoke volumes.

So I left.

I'm so whipped (hangs head in shame)