First Day of Preschool

Apparently went well. The whole family went to drop Nutmeg off and she was not at all sorry to see us go.



She was happy but not overwrought to see me upon return.



However, she cried and yelled all the way home, and sat down on the ground many times, to protest the fact that she had left her water cup and school and I would not go back for it. I'm a mean, mean mommy.

You know who's not a mean mommy? The woman who just came into the vending machine area where I am sitting. Her kids were mobbing the vending machine, and she was pleading and begging with them to come away from the machine because she did not have any money. When her suggestion of cookies at the cafe instead was rejected, she said she knew a store where she could buy the exact treat in the machine. The worst part is that I know I have pleaded with Nutmeg like that to avert the threatening meltdown. But hearing how pathetic a grown woman sounds when begging a preschooler makes me want to be stronger next time.

After preschool, Nutmeg pulled the "I don't know" thing, claiming ignorance of what went on during the last 3 hours, what songs may have been sung, what kids may or may not have been met. But it all came out by bedtime. She actually reproduced two brand-new songs she learned, word for word. It was reported that there is a time-out chair at school, which fortunately she did not occupy. Her teacher was quoted as saying, "You can pick your nose at home." I am hoping Miss Sue was misquoted on that.

While Nut was at school, I was busy making arrangements for Pebbles to have a little childcare each day at a gym so I can work out or get stuff done. Today we are trying to use said arrangement, with little to no success. Due to excessive crying, Pebbles is here in the vending room with me, instead of playing in the childcare room. She just slept on my chest for 15 to 20 minutes. Does this mean she will be cheerful and ready to play? We'll see, because I am signed up to use a workout machine with a little TV on it in just a few minutes, and "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" is about to start.

But before I go, I must share a snippet of conversation I heard over the weekend that made me want to barf:

Me: So are you thinking about international adoption?
Future Mommy: Yes, and we'd love to adopt one kid each from several different countries.

I guess it's the Angelina effect, but come on! Do you want to be a parent or a collector? That mindset just makes adoption seem a bit too much like shopping to me. It's also incredibly naive: Does she really think she'll enjoy learning the adoption rules of three or four different countries?

Oh, and check this out. Apparently, most of us who write about motherhood are "negative, catty and whiny." What a bitch. I don't know what galls me more: That I didn't think of writing an article about this woman when I first read her eBay auction, or that what happened to her hasn't happened to me. Oops, there I go again with the catty and the whiny.