March 13-18, 2016
Notice Kindergarten registration is happening. Add reminder to phone to check on 2017 schedule in late February. Congratulate self on organized process and systems.
Feb. 16, 2017 | 7:30 a.m.
Drive past future school. Glance at marquee. Notice Kindergarten registration ends in 32 hours. Have panic attack. Attempt to un-teach future scholar new curse words. Anticipate curse words to surface again only during Kindergarten readiness assessment.
Use smartphone to Google and locate school registration forms. Realize forms must be printed out and completed by hand. All 15 pages. Because 1952 was an especially efficient year for office personnel.
Find list of additional required documentation. Call to confirm that we are applying for public school entrance, not entrance into the US of A.
Call pediatrician’s office to get copy of immunization records. Enter the dreaded first-hour-of-the-morning-everyone-call-the-ped muzak. (Thanks, Flu ’17. You can go now.)
Attempt to find car keys. Fail. Message husband re: meeting to exchange. Decide it will be first and last time I ever use the phrase, “Meet me in the alley.”
Connect with a human being in pediatrician’s office. Request immunization records, this afternoon if possible. Am asked why I wasn’t aware of Kindergarten registration before today. Commence internal screaming.
Begin completing paperwork. (Side note: Explain to me why we’re eliminating handwriting from the school curriculum when all of its paperwork still has to be done by hand. Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think? #earworm #yourewelcome) Learn that falsifying your address on Kindergarten registration paperwork is a first degree misdemeanor. Finally understand where our justice system jumped the shark.
Student Cell Phone: ___________________ Bahahahahahahahahahahahaha no.
Dude. Daytime phone and cell phone are the same thing. But you would know that if you lived in a universe called 2017. Also? 47% of U.S. households don’t have landlines. So please stop asking for my home phone like you can’t make like Drake and just call me on my cell. #earworm #trackchange #yourestillwelcome It travels with me. That’s why it’s called a mobile phone. Because it’s mobile.
Parent Input Form, Question 15: Does your child recognize some letters of the alphabet (first name)? … Seriously? That’s our highest expectation of Kindergartners? That sometime in the last 1,825+ days they managed to learn 15% of the alphabet??? Sweet mercy.
Parent Input Form, Question 18: Does your child hold a book correctly? … I can’t even.
Parent Input Form, Question 25: Does your child sort objects by attribute (color, size, or shape)? … Damn straight he does. He eats his M&M’s by color the way the universe intended. Want him to show you how to work the labelmaker? #TypeAalltheway #likemotherlikeson
Parent Input Form, Question 26: Does your child show understanding of general times of day? … Yes, except for: on Christmas Day, on any day when mom is running 21 minutes behind, or every.single.Saturday morning.
Parent Input Form, Question 35: Name three things you would like your child to be able to do in one year. …
1. Recite the preamble to the Constitution of the United States of America (while copies are still available).
2. Participate in clinical trials for medicine that causes five-year-olds to sleep past 6 in the a.m.
3. Successfully place socks inside laundry hamper without them being balled up.
Parent Input Form, Question 37: Right now I am most concerned about: …
1. Your lack of a comma after “now.”
2. The carpal tunnel in my right hand from filling out 15 pages of repetitive paperwork.
3. Where I’m going to keep the magical leprechaun I’ll need to hire to watch my child during the 1,780 business hours he won’t be at school but the rest of the world still needs me to produce stuff. (Note to self: Ensure leprechaun can teach handwriting.) (Side note: Half-day-only Kindergarten, we in a fight.)
Pick up immunization records on way to work meeting because everyone totes has nothing else to do between the weekday hours of 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. SO WE SHOULD ALL OPERATE UNDER THE EXACT SAME WORKING HOURS SO NOTHING GETS ACCOMPLISHED. Suggest the penalty for picking up a virus in order to complete Kindergarten registration also be a first degree misdemeanor. Spray all the things with hand sanitizer. (Really, Flu ’17. We’re done with you.)
Stop at house. Apologize to confused dog for interrupting Nap #29347. Locate all documents needed for applying for green card Kindergarten. Can’t remember passcode to husband’s super-secure-spy-level-Army briefcase. Throw entire briefcase into trunk.
Pick up children from preschool. Explain impending adventure as “Visiting The Place That Hasn’t Heard About Google Forms Yet.” Ask Siri to tell five-year-old what “bureaucracy” means.
Turn in forms. Intend to take obligatory picture with building sign but forget. Ask Yelp to find closest family-friendly establishment with wine on draft. Ignore husband when he says that’s not a thing.
Call preschool and ask about permanent enrollment. PTA not scary there. Computers from this century there. Complex childcare system not needed for before school/after school/we’re-closed-because-theres-a-snowstorm-in-Kansas days there. DON’T LEEEEEEAVE USSSSSS.
Ask five-year-old if he has any questions. Confirm that, yes, he may get a Minion lunchbox and, no, he will not be driving himself to school. Yet.
Sob. Sob sob sob sob sob.