See, took off work for Child's Kindergarten graduation. Got jeans on (this is officially a Big Deal for me. Work is dress, and God, do I miss my jeans and t-shirts), brushed hair with fingers, water, and comb, went, extended family went as well (nothing quite like sharing a Special Moment with your son and five of your closest relatives when you want a. breakfast b. to have found your hairbrush this morning and c. that you could stop yawning. But I digress.)
For those who have been to these? Would have liked some warning. I was thinking, oh, cute little kids, everyone casual, but no. Everyone was dressed to the nines. Me, my t-shirt, my comfy flannel, and let's not discuss my shoes, stood out quite well among business and dress attire. Go me. Hair in pony tail (did I mention the brush issue?). Child and class were in LITTLE PURPLE GRADUATION ROBES. And these pictures will be posted, as soon as I get them uploaded. Adorable, yes. But surreal.
Awards presented, which kind of irked me--I was a desperately intellectually competitive child from, oh, the first time I realized being smart got you neat certificates, attention, pizza parties, and awards, not to mention going to competitions, but that wasn't until second-third grade. I'm uncomfortable with kindergarten being a competitive sport now. I had issues enough when Child was graded on coloring--on COLORING, for Pete's sake. *sighs* But I chalked that up to weirdness and enjoyed child's impressionistic art without worrying about the entire lines issue.
Stil, though. Do five year olds really need to be competitive in reading, conduct, computer literacy, and COLORING?
Anyway, despite that, Child was adorable and also very self-possessed for someone wearing a purple satin robe. He'd asked me very seriously not to yell, whistle, or make loud noises when he was up there--methinks he remembers his mommy's reaction to him being a train bearer in the Harvest Festival in October.
(For those interested in child's antics at this very proper production, the memories of which continue to entertain me whenever I think about it, go here. Child believed, apparently, that train bearing is also a contact sport. Somewhere, we have bits of this on tape. It makes me happy.)
Anyway, afterward, the day got suddenly--long. Errands. Everywhere. And really dumb ones, but ones that have to be done when I don't have work, which gah. Blah. Sleep, dammit. One hour ago I got to sit down for the first time today without having to actually THINK, and dear God, does this make me happy.
What makes me less happy is mandatory work day tomorrow. Oh shoot me now. No, really.
More Surreal Moments, taking off from T-Ball shockiness: Boy who made fun of me enough to make me quit band in sixth grade now father of a child in my son's class. Had no idea. It's got to say something unhealthy that seeing people from high school freaks me out more than the concept of dental surgery that's coming up Real Soon Now. Oddly, not only have I not gotten over my issues with my high school classmates, I actually seem to be dragging them along like a weird, weird, weird antisecurity blanket.
*sighs* And it had to be a bad hair day, didn't it? Couldn't, just once, I be in heels, dressed spectacularly, hair like something out of Cosmo, and making all men fall drooling at my feet begging for forgiveness?
*grins* Didn't think so. I really have to stop taking myself so seriously.
Though I am comforted by the fact that I still fit into my junior high cheerleading uniform. No, I didn't check when I got home, silly people. Of course not. Not THAT insecure. Not at all.