Big Boy goes to a Montessori school. A kind of judge-y, crunchy, no cake on your birthday kind of school. I’ve told you about this. We put him there for some compelling reasons (I’m sure there were some but can’t remember them at this moment) but have always kind of felt that our family was a square peg there.
There are generally two kinds of moms. There are the crunchy moms always trying to out-kale each other, and the lawyer moms in suits.
I used to be a lawyer, but I really, really, really hate suits. Every time I wear a suit, a little piece of me dies. It’s kind of like if you say you don’t believe in fairies, one falls down dead? (Per Peter Pan, at least.) I’m not sure what the sartorial equivalent is of raising the fairy by saying you believe in fairies a whole bunch, but maybe it is every time I wear a fur vest or something shiny and gold a little piece of my soul grows back?
These days I wear suits a lot less, and I’m not really one of those lawyer moms anymore. And kale has never entered my house. I own nothing hemp. I adore real leather and fur. I buy my baked goods. So I sort of struggle with what kind of mom I am supposed to be to fit in there.
Drop-off for Big Boy in the morning can be stressful because it happens between 8:10 and 8:30. This is early for me, and Husband is usually at work by then. In the past, Nanny (yes, we have a nanny. We are very, very lucky to have her. More on this later.) has taken him because I was usually going to work.
Now that James is in school as well, however, the plan is for me to take Big Boy and Nanny to take James to school so I can go to work earlier. This is a great plan. But we all know what they say about plans.
Thus, I give you your Monday list.
Things I was wearing when I walked Big Boy into school on Thursday:
- My glasses. (Still rocking a pair purchased circa 1998 when I was still on my parents’ vision plan. They are especially attractive as my left eye is twice as weak as the right and so the cute frames I hoped were all Lisa Loeb-looking have one giant lens that hangs out of them.)
- White men’s UNC T-Shirt, Size Xtra-Large. (This is the official T-shirt spelling of “Extra.” Don’t hate.)
- Pink flannel Barbie doll boxer shorts, purchased at FAO Schwartz in New York on a Model United Nations trip in 1996. (On this same trip, which occurred in April, my mother insisted I bring long underwear to wear under my suits. Yes, I’m Southern. And maybe this is why I hate suits so much. Because I started wearing them in high school, not because of the Southern thing.)
- Gold platform high-heeled wedge sandals.
Notice I said “Things I was wearing when I walked Big Boy into school.” Yes. I walked my son into school in an outfit that was 2-parts high school nerdy me and 2-parts college walk of shame* me.
I walked him inside because if you are late at this school, you have to sign in. After you sign in, they give you (you being the three-year-old child that is late) a giant, red laminated card that you have to give your teacher. I like to think of it as punctuality by shaming. The parents get their shame by having to fill in a form that explains why you are late. Generally, my answer is “I am a terrible person.”
Happy Monday to all. I missed you last week.
*If you don’t know what the walk of shame is, aren’t you precious.