Skip to main content

Utter Break from Reality

The Rabbit is set to start pre-K next year at a public school, and in a class -- so I thought -- with all her friends. In fact The Prince and I turned down her acceptance to one of the best public schools in the city (which we had to interview for -- can you believe this?) because we thought it would be more important to have her start her first real school experience with some children she knew.

We get our letters in the mail today and I find that's she been tossed into some class where it looks like none of her friends are.

And basically, upon opening the letter, my brains leaked from my head.

I began to yell. And shout. And rave about being singled out (oh, yes me -- not The Rabbit. Yes, I am aware of the psychosis here....) And I called a mother who happens to be one of The Rabbit's friends mom and started swearing at her.

I acted like someone needed to punch me in the face with a bullet of lithium and then cart me into a padded silent cell where I could chew on my bindings in peace.

So now I am sitting here embarrased. I emailed an apology to the mom. But since The Prince is out at a "work thing" (read: party where he gets drunk with 20-something-year-olds and then comes home thinking I'm in the mood...right...) I am all alone with my jittery anger.

I do want to go to the school tomorrow and at least find out for sure who is in her class (uh, no friends?) and then..what? Threaten them? Rip her from school? Move to Alaska? Because given my anti-social behavior I am sure that it the only place left where my rantings could be tolerated -- in an ice-frozen igloo.

You ever have those days when you want to rip a hole in the cosmos and wrench time backwards? Welcome to my night.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...