Monday, January 30, 2012

A Preschool Break Up

I had to break up with Drew's preschool on Friday.  And even though it's been a while since I've been through a break up, I learned that not much has changed.

Like all relationships, it was great in the beginning.  They wooed me with promises of certified teachers, music programs and romantic lunches of whole wheat pizza and strawberry jello.  They had a nice pad, so they must be doing something right, right?  And every time we got together, they were smiling and laughing.  Oh, what glorious days those were!

But then, something changed.  Maybe the newness wore off or maybe some of the other kids built more impressive block towers, but things were different.  There was a little less Hey! How are you today? and a little more dressing my son like a 3-year old prostitute.  I wasn't sure what I should do.

Even though I didn't have the same feelings anymore, I wanted to stick it out.  Change is scary.  We had been together for so long and it's hard to find "the one" when they all look the same during a highway drive-by.

Who will want me after this kind of break up?  I can't be alone!  

No, really.  I can't.  This Mama's got to work.  Do you know how much Uggs cost?

Last week, things got worse.  Drew got punched in the face and nobody cared.  His new teacher pinched his leg and called him a baby when he accidentally wet his pants.  And did I mention that they forgot to feed him lunch for two days?  Yep.  Just forgot.

I went into the director's office to speak with her about my concerns.  "Concerns" is the politically correct term for WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING TO MY BOY?

They spun it like it didn't happen, or if it did, that it was my fault.  Man, they're good.  As for the lunch situation, they said, "we'll try to make sure that Drew gets his lunchbox today."  Golly. Thanks for all the extra effort.

That's it.  I'm done.  We're breaking up.

So I sent them an email.  Yes, I know it's childish to dump somebody via email, but I thought it was better than Facebook or Twitter.  I laid out all my reasons for ending things immediately.  I'm not interested in any casual dinners to see if we can work it out, so don't even ask.  And no, I don't want my Bon Jovi CD back.  I just want to pretend like "us" never happened.

But it never works that way.  So my phone rang.  It rang again.  And again.  I almost picked it up and said, "I'm not answering because I'M IGNORING YOU", but instead, I just sent them to voicemail.  Again.  And again.  But eventually, I caved and answered the phone.  I'm just a woman after all.

I had dreams of a peaceful parting, but that didn't happen.  She spent the first 15 minutes of the conversation trying to convince me that I was an idiot and then she said that we shouldn't break up.  If I happened to be the kind of mother who was totally cool with her not feeding my son, her condescending tone would have been enough to seal the deal.  This lady is going to be single a looooong time.  

The conversation got pretty heated there at the end.  I think the last thing I said was, well, you can BEEP BEEP BEEPITY BEEEEEEEEEEEP.  Sorry for the censoring, but this statement is not appropriate for children under 17 or for my parents to read.

So I came home in the WORST mood.  I cried until mascara ran down my cheeks.  I ate ice cream straight out of the container.  I thought about all the good times that we shared together.  How did this happen?  Where did I go wrong? 

I thought about that last conversation over and over again, EXCEPT THIS TIME, I was the Bruce Lee of comebacks.  I was roundhouse kickin' all over her belittling comments!  I was brilliant - you know - there in my mind, two hours later, during this fictitious conversation where I said all the things that I didn't have the nerve to say in real life.

Then I drank a beer and watched The Notebook.

Yep.  Not that much has changed.