Sarah's school is fancy.
It follows a new and improved curriculum for kids even her age, that would put my old school Sesame Street edu to shame.
In all honesty, I didn't have much to do with the picking of said school. At the time Sarah was involved in My Gym and they decided to close their doors so we were left, very suddenly, with "what do we do now?"
Still being raw from the move and being thrust in to a new city, new job, new home, I was actually relieved when my SIL said she was looking for a particular program for Sarah. Between the two of them, my MIL and SIL have 40 years of education experience, so sure I let them take the reigns on this one.
Anyway, the new shiny, fancy school has done wonders for Sarah. She LOVES going to see her "guys" as she calls everyone. This new, shiny school had parent/teacher conferences last night and in a moment of mom guilt I decided to go. Up until last week, I had never stepped foot on NSS (new,shiny school), not for lack of wanting but momma's gotta pay bills. So I became the ever absent mother, and God love husband, he does a lot of the drop off and pick up and his car is the Bermuda triangle. NOTHING (including Amelia Earhart) makes it in to the house from school. Things have been missed like special art days and a class fiesta.
I arrived early yesterday and decided to sit in my car and browse buzz feed and revel in the few moments I had to listen to music that didn't include a single animal sound. Cars carrying other parents started to fill the spaces next to me and I when riders emptied out in the courtyard I noticed all the moms greeting one another, hugging and catching up. They all looked like they stepped out of those fabletitcs commercials, kids all dressed in traditional, smocked southern attire. I felt the pangs of something I hadn't felt in over ten years. I was transported back to the school cafeteria, holding that always sticky plastic tray, hoping to see a familiar face in the crowd.
I that feeling, one of being a lone in a sea of people, hit me hard. I could almost smell the intoxicating mix of number two pencil shavings and pizza (Fiesta pizza day was my fave lunch day of the week). I almost didn't wan to get out of the car, what would they think when I walked past? Bags under my eyes, glasses smudged, a stain on my shirt from lunch, a hair tie that is barely hanging on.
Would they judge me? Would they greet me as warmly as they had each other? Are they fitness instructors coming in between teaching a class?
I didn't have the answers to these burning questions I had but there is one thing I did know: I wanted, as much as I did in that school cafeteria, to be a "cool kid."