...And the Band Played On (aka "What the Hell Wednesday")

Shit just keeps gettin' better on our end, peeps. Took Jax with me to Ryan's kindergarten registration, and now I'm pretty sure we'll all be blacklisted there from now until eternity.

He did okay at first, sucking on the lollipop that they attached to a balloon for him, following the BIG BOYS around, chattering and nodding his head. I was amused to the point of literally being tickled, until he took off for the janitor's closet, and they started bringing the students in for lunch, which meant we had to get up and get out.

Not quite through with my paperwork, I gathered everything up, chased him away from the mop bucket, and herded him onto the cafe-gym-itorium stage where I attempted to coax him to calmness with crayons,. I should have known better, and am constantly amazed at how naive I am when it comes to my son. Of course he's gonna start marking the stage, of course, he's gonna see how far he can jump off the stage, of course, he's gonna let his balloon go and then scream until I climb onto a chair to retrieve it. And this is only 30 minutes in.

We finally make our way to the real line, which is oh, about 12 people deep and serviced by only 2 office staff. In other words, we were looking at a wait. I'm used to this, I don't even blink when he runs around in circles, or puts his feet on the wall, or shock of all shockers -- tries to grab more balloons from the rainbow jungle they've got set up right on front of us. Not even a blink from me, until the elementary mommy mafia start in on him, staring, whispering, laughing...Still, I barely bat an eye. He runs, I chase. He grabs a balloon, I take it back. He heads into the front office to massacre their files, I push them back in an orderly fashion. Same old, same old.

Or not.

At first, all the parents in line are chuckling along, marveling at what a "wonderful ball of energy he is", but then, when he actually puts one of the wrapped lollipops in his mouth, the facade cracks. "Why don't you just give it to him," Mommy Mobster #1 sneers, "he's already put it in his mouth anyway, we can't hand it out now."

"Oh, sorry", I mutter, all at once cut down by her tone and glare. So I unwrap it, hand it to him, and sit him against the wall next to me, where he lasts all of 3 minutes before heading off down the hall again. This is when Mobster #2 approaches me, wielding crayons and paper. Bless her stupid little heart. "Thanks," I smile, thinking, "yeah, right."

I make an effort anyway, sit him down at the wall, put the crayons in his hand, and point him towards the paper. Not 5 seconds after I'm back in line, he's attacked the floor with crayola, and has his feet banging against the quintessential elementary sound-proofing attempt: the carpeted walls. The Mommy Mafia is sitting on the other side of said wall, and all 3 of them quickly come about to see what on earth could be causing such a ruckus. Hmmm, I wonder...

Right about then, Mobster #2 grabs one of the office staff, whispering and pointing in my direction, coming up for air to glance at Jax and say, "We're going to go ahead and move you up in the line so you can get him out of here." Great, just what I need. As if I'm not annoying enough with my own personal little Tasmanian Devil by my side, now I get to cut in front of all the other tired parents who've been waiting longer than me. Perfect.

So up we go, Jax trotting along, me walking with my eyes downcast, mumbling apologies. Then? Well, then they make me wait at the front of the line while the Office Gestapo finishes with the previous parent. So now I get to stand there in front of my child's peer's parents, as they burn my face into their brains, remembering me as the ONE WHO CUT. That should help us make friends.

Meanwhile, Jax hasn't taken a beat -- he keeps right up, attacking the copy machine, being shooed away by Mommy Mobster #3, lurching at balloons that they have left everywhere, dumping crayons all over the floor. So here I go, chasing him around this 12x12 room, making a complete fool of myself as a parent and a human being, giving the people I've pissed off even more ammunition to use against me, when my friend, who I've also cut in front of, but in the worst way -- she was the next in line -- asks me if she can take Jax for me.

I have great friends. I really do, and most of them are always willing to try and help out when needed, but the problem is, I want to keep my friends, and with Jax, it's a crap shoot. I tell her that it's okay, I'll just hold him while I wait, but then he starts hitting me, and rather than spank him and scream, which, you know, is what I do, I look at her and hand him over. So now, not only have I cut in front of her, I've now handed her Satan's Minion to hold while she waits even longer.

Finally, it's my turn to face the Gestapo, and if you thought the staff at the DPS was bad, you need to visit the office staff on kindergarten registration day. If I hadn't already been pissed off at everyone around me, I actually might have been scared. She pulled one of those, "I'm so irritated I can't even talk to you, I'll just gesture until you figure out what I want" moves, which I love, and which really just sealed the deal for me right then and there. All I needed from her was a snap in my direction, and we would be researching Private Schools right now.

Once she finished assassinating our records and my dignity, I moved over to the nurse, ready to get outta dodge, only to be told that Ry still needs one more MMR. Another point for MOTY!!!

I get all the instructions, and then she mentions that if I want to stop by the PTA table to buy supplies early, I am welcome to. Sure, then maybe we'll all get naked and dance the hokey-pokey.

I walk off, eager to grab Jax and get home so I can discipline him properly (relax, I just put him to nap), when the PTA Gang starts calling out, Ma'am! Ma'am, wait!" I turn with a look that can only be described as :ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? I'd just stood in front of these yahoo's for 20 minutes, chasing down Jax, and now they think I want to subject myself and the rest of the room to more torture? Are the masochists?? I had been on the fence about joining the PTA, what with all the cattiness and gossip I so abhor (outside of my family and friends, that is), but I'm pretty sure that after today, I'll be declining any invitations they may absent-mindedly extend.

Next year's gonna be a hoot, I can just FEEL it.