Kindergarten Cop

It is always cool when your kid jumps out of bed in the morning merrily singing "Today is a special day!" over and over again.  It's even cooler when she is excited because she is proud to be spending the day with you.  The truth is she was a little more enthusiastic about today than I was.  She has been counting the days for weeks.  I, though, was a little nervous.  For today was my debut as Kindergarten Classroom Parent Helper. It's a little like the old saying, "It's better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."  It's better to be thought a bumbling dad, than show up and remove all doubt.  I took solace in the fact that Grace was so excited.  I sometimes forget to look at our relationship from her perspective.  I'm glad she sees me as a hero; I don't see myself that way. It would be wise for parents to remember how large we loom in our kids' worldview and act accordingly.  Besides, in the not-so-distant future she won't want to be seen within a six mile radius of me; I better enjoy it while I can. 

You may ask why I would be nervous, after all, I helped in Pre-K class and on field trips.  Well, this class has twice as many kids that I would be assisting in wrangling.  And the tiny chairs.  There is nary a chair in that building that will hold an ass my size.  Thirdly, there is the snack time pressure.  My food choices judged by thirty-two watchful eyeballs?  I imagine snack time going something like this:

Carrots? Carrots?  Let me get this straight.  You could have brought in any food in the world, something dripping with high fructose corn syrup or covered in funfetti, and you brought us carrots?!

(Weakly): But I have Nilla Wafers, too.

Oh, don't even get me started about cookies without chips, icing or a creamy filling.  You just don't get it, do you buddy?  A word to the wise- a mom brought Fig Newtons in the other morning and no one has seen her since. 
Then the pint-sized mob would raise their tiny pitchforks...

Snacks aside, relating to five-year-olds should be right in my wheelhouse, but you never know. I figure if I dole out a few high fives, pretend to confuse cows and giraffes, and make a well-timed timed joke about a quacking elephant I'll be golden.  Kindergartners love silly humor and Corny is my middle name.  I did not want Grace to feel compelled to explain away her dopey father.  (Which, ultimately, she did.  After some dumb joke, she sighed, looked around the table meeting each of her classmates eyes and calmly said, "It's okay.  He does that.  He kids around a lot.")  To sum up my mission: bring a decent snack and don't embarrass Grace by being an idiot. 

Then last night something magical happened.  I read an article that took away all the pressure of being classroom helper.  Because there is no way I could be as terrible at it as the mom who took vagina shaped cookies to her second grader's class.  That's right, she baked and iced cookies to look like Hoo-has.  Lady bits. The old Velvet Glove.  It would not shock me if the article is a hoax, but let's for a moment assume it is true.  Beyond the juvenile questions about flavor or if all the cookies are the same on the inside, I've got questions.  Starting with, What the hell was she thinking?  How awful must it be to be her kid?  Is her name Mulva?  Does she sell them by the dozen?  Like on the internet?  I'm, uh, asking for a friend.

Thanks, lady, you made my morning easier.  With my G-rated snack in one paw and Grace's little hand in the other, I was able to confidently walk into school ready for action.

School Time

During these first two weeks of my daughter Grace being in kindergarten I have made a discovery.  Not a huge Columbus-bumping-into-the-New-World discovery, but a profound discovery in my little realm.  I guess I am ratting out stay-at-home moms and dads that have been hiding a dirty little secret: if you stay at home or work nights and your kids go to school full-time every day, you actually have TIME FOR YOURSELF!  Six uninterrupted hours to exercise, to read, to go to the grocery store by myself, to lay on the couch listening to sports radio-why didn't anybody tell me this before?  Chores, without your little "helpers", are completed faster and you have time for fun.
And this revelation has led to other minor discoveries.  For instance, did you know they play non-kids movies at the theater during the day? It's true!  Real grown-up fare complete with curse words and innuendo starting before sundown.   That's right, the opportunity exists to watch a matinee that is not about talking cars or smart ass woodland creatures without someone begging for $75 gummy garbage or having to pee just as the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man is showing up.  (Side note: I am so glad that I caught the Ghostbusters 30th anniversary re-release on the big screen.  It holds up, still funny as hell.)

Or, did you remember that the beach can be a place of peace?  I love taking  Grace to the beach; we managed to average a beach day a week all summer.  She had a blast crashing in the waves and learning to ride a boogie board.  But as sure as the incoming tide, no beach day went by without the following conversation:

"Grace, are you having fun?"
"Yes Daddy, but are we going to ride rides today?  Will you help me make a sandcastle?  Where is the closest mini golf place?  Are we going to ride rides today?  Let's find some shells!  I can't wait to get a funnel cake. Or maybe an ice cream cone.  Wait, I'll get both and mash them together!  Are we going to ride rides today?  When can we go to the boardwalk?  I bet the games are open now.  Which way is Candy Kitchen? Can I bury you under the sand now? Do you want to save some time and just dump all your money right in the ocean? Oh, and are we going to ride rides today?
"Um, can't we just sit and watch the waves?"

Besides her constant activity, I am hyper-vigilant about keeping an eye on Grace near the water.   There is no quiet day at the beach with Grace.   Twice, though, since the beginning of school, I was able to achieve just that.  Rare is the occasion I allow myself to be rocked to sleep by the rolling surf lullaby.  Grace is in school? Doze, baby, doze.

Today, between naps I noted the change in the demographics of beachgoers after Labor Day.  Today, it was mostly just me and some old folks.  Yes, older than me, even.  I thought I had crashed a Cocoon cast reunion.  I kept waiting for a waitress to show up with a Denny's Early Bird Specials menu.  Actually, that would have been great; I would have loved a Moon Over My Hammy right about then.  These guys were cool, though.  They were simply looking for a little peace, a little ocean breeze on their face, a little more sun on their leathery hides.  Most importantly, they were looking for it quietly.

You know who is not cool, though?  The other group joining me and the RV Brigade on the beach. The scourge of the resort town, the Obligatory Seagull Feeders.
Look, mam, you may be new here, but unless you are conducting some important  Avian  Feeding Ritual Research project, and your sagging prison tattoos and cut-off jorts make this seem incredibly unlikely, just keep the french fries in the bucket, okay?  Nobody wants to get crapped on by sky rodents.  I don't come to Baltimore and feed the smack junkies.  Maybe you could extend the same courtesy on your vacation.
Don't you just want to choke these people with the very crumbs they are tossing in the air?  Because they are never the ones that get shit on.  It is always some innocent bystander.  Fortunately, I did not get crapped on, was not forced to beat somebody up, and concluded a peaceful morning in Ocean City.

My schedule is not all sunshine and giggles, however.  I have two days off during the week, but my wife, Amanda, has weekends off.  We stagger the schedule like this to reduce the babysitting coverage we need for Grace.  This produces three results. One, my wife and I never have a regularly scheduled day off together and, thereby, we never have a full family day off together.  Two, when I work evening shifts I drop Grace at school at 9am and then don't see her again (awake anyway) until the next morning. This is a bummer.  And, three, Amanda's two days off are wall-to-wall Grace.  She is not afforded the school time freedom that I have during the week.  I feel a little guilty about this.  A little.  But I think I have devised a plan that will allow us to have boatloads of free time off together.  Today, I applied for the Avian Feeding Research Grant.  Tomorrow, we get the tattoos.