See-ya

I just put in an application at a new preschool for Vaughn. Admittedly, I only looked at two this time again, but The Analyst convinced me that you can only research preschools so much and then the rest is largely luck and chance.

With that sage advice, I decided, "Screw it," very much reminiscent of how he got into his current preschool. Probably not the best sign. I did check this place out. I'm not knocked out by it (however, my standards are considerably higher this time round), but there are more kids, it's nonco-op, two caring teachers, fairly structured, a big huge gymnasium for recess, and a large campus for outdoor play. Plus, as Vaughn put it, the view is "beautiful." Hey, can't argue with that.

This all of course came on the heels of me picking Vaughn up from school and finding out that they watched a video, AGAIN, for recess. Lord God Almighty, these kids would never see the outdoors if we kept them in every time it drizzled. We live in OREGON, for God's sake. As one person put it, "The armpit of the United States," and I would add to that, "The very cold and clammy armpit of the United States."

Then Vaughn told me that they had "treats" for snacks--gummies and punch. Is it any wonder these kids are sick all the time and will eat absolutely nothing that even slightly sniffs of any nutritional value? This was on Tuesday and he informed me that they again had gummies on Thursday for lunch. I don't know if the parents have just resigned themselves to catering to the depraved appetites of these little anorexics or what. I bring in fruit cups for my days and only one kid will eat them. That's right: Vaughn. The rest of the kids shove their fruit cups over to "Mikey" for consumption. This is fruit in syrup, people. But oh, what's that? They detect trace vitamins in there, so it is not fit for their discriminating palates.

On top of this, I did my "job" at the spaghetti feed under the preschool administrator's watch (a.k.a. the Preschool Nazi). My shift was supposed to go from 4-6:30, but around 6:30, when I'm getting ready to depart with my family, she informs me that I'll be there until 7-ish. Ish? Ish!!!!????? I guess this was her way of penalizing me for getting to my shift late, but in my defense, I wasn't even supposed to have to do a full shift. This was the conversation back in December:

I was doing the stocking stuffer job at the time and was goodnaturedly bitching to another mother in front of the Preschool Nazi's office (admittedly unwisely) about how time consuming this co-op thing was. When we'd registered, I had stupidly signed up for every job available over the year, not understanding that I only had to do one 3-hour job for the year. After the mother left, the Preschool Nazi calls me into her office and said she couldn't help overhearing (yeah, what with the bat ears and all) my conversation and that she wanted to clear up any confusion I might have. I told her that it was my stupidity that caused the confusion and that I was perfectly prepared to keep my commitment. She told me that she keeps track of all the hours the parents put in and that she "wouldn't allow anyone to go over their 3 hours." She asked how much time the stocking stuffing had taken me, and I stood there calculating outloud, coming to the conclusion that it was about 2-1/2 hours. She said that in that case, I could probably just do 1/2 hour on the cash register for the rummage sale and my commitment would be fulfilled. Of course, at the end of this conversation, as I'm leaving, she adds, "Let me know for sure how much time the stocking stuffing took you." Jeez. I'm sorry. I thought I just did that? Whatever.

Fast forward 2 months, and here I am slopping overcooked spaghetti and serving senior citizens last Thanksgiving's pumpkin pie, chanting over and over in my brain, "Vaughn's outta here. Vaughn's outta here."

Now I just have to break the news that he's not coming back next year to the Preschool Nazi. *shiver*