This week we had parent teacher conferences. I’d like to tell all the parents with young children out there this: whatever your teacher said about your kindergarten child this year, is only a slightly different version of the same speech you will hear from your child’s High School teachers. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard this before, but leopards can’t change their spots. You got what you got, sister.
That blonde, curly haired, black eyed cutie pie that got in trouble for entertaining his friends by squatting like a monkey on the toilet in Kindergarten, WILL be getting in trouble for wearing an obscene wrestling singlet under a robe, which he unveils during a high school Spanish presentation. Just a couple of vague examples here. I wouldn’t know anything about a kid like this. I just know you’ve got your hands full.
I kinda know what my kids’ teachers are going to say about my kids before they even say it.
I told Scott that maybe I wouldn’t go to conferences this year. He’s a teacher, and he thought that idea wasn’t a good one. So, I went. Or, at least I tried to go.
At some point in the busy week, Olivia was shoving this paper in my face. “Sign up for conferences, Mom.” I did. Olivia told me what time and day I signed up for, and I told myself I’d remember.
Only, I didn’t remember. That must come as quite a shock to you. I’m sorry for that.
I called the school on the day of conferences to ask them to confirm the time I should be there. The person at the front office nicely said, “Your conference time is 5pm. Yesterday.”
What? Olivia told me the wrong night. It’s not like her to be wrong about the details. She lives for that stuff. If she’s not careful, I’m not going to let her be in charge of my calendar any more.
I asked the person in the front office which teacher my conference was with, assuming I had actually been there. The front office person said the teacher I needed to see depended on which “team” Olivia was on, “A” or “B”. She rattled off some teachers’ names. I pretended to know which teachers Olivia had, because what kind of parent doesn’t know that? I’m better than that.
Front office person says, “Oh, then your conference was with Ms. so and so.”
Great. I knew what to do next. I crafted a clever, humble and kind email to Olivia’s teacher. I let Olivia’s teacher know how sorry I was for standing her up at the conferences. I explained that Olivia was enjoying school very much, and to please let us know if there were any concerns, or anything we could to do help. I think I made some attempt at being witty towards the end of the email, and then, of course, thanked the teacher for all her dedication and hard work as it pertains to our daughter.
That night I told Olivia about the missed conference. I told her I was a little surprised that she had the wrong date, but it wasn’t a problem, because I sent a long and nice email to her teacher, Ms. So and so.
Olivia said, “What? Ms. So and So isn’t even my teacher! Why would you do that? MISTER So and so is my teacher.”
There you have it. A story on how to fail at conferences. I hope you feel better about who you are today.
Generally speaking, my kids are being responsible students, and enjoying school. Can we just leave me out of it? I don’t think I’m helping.
You know what else I’m not winning at? Dieting.
I had this loony idea that it would be fun to have a family weight loss contest with my sisters and their adult children. 6 weeks to see who could lose the most weight. Final weigh off is on Thanksgiving. Winner takes home about about 80 bucks.
Here are my before and afters:
You can see that I’ve really leaned out here. Which is cool, because I didn’t even know I could look better than I already did. Scott’s so bad with technology. I can’t believe he cut my head out of the after shot. Plus, he caught me right in the middle of measuring my waist, silly. How do you use a tape measure again? They’re tricky.
All participating family members are self-reporting. We’re on the honor system. Suckers.
Some of my family members are reporting 5 pound, 7 pound and 10 pound weight losses. I have lost 8 pounds. Or, .8 (point 8), actually. Who wants to get all bogged down with decimals? I just like to keep things simple. .8, round up to 8. Simple.
Uhggg!!! Losing weight is so hard.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re healthy, Miki. Be grateful for the body God gave you, Miki. You already look A.MAY.ZINGGGG, Miki!!!! Well, the first two things, anyway. I just like having goals, and I like being on the lower end of the 10 pound swing my body finds most comfortable. The older I get, the more naturally my body settles on the upper end. Plus, I have my fitness modeling career to think about. I haven’t gotten it off the ground yet, but I have always thought this could be a real money maker for us.
Some of my family members are doing some well thought out weight loss programs. My program is one I made up. It’s two steps: no cream in my coffee and no potato chips. So far, I have not used cream in my coffee…on some of the days. I think I’m getting awfully close to not eating potato chips too, and I certainly should get credit for that. Have you had potato chips lately? They are so good. I mean, seriously good. Especially when you’re jamming them in your mouth while you make dinner.
Anyway…I made up the stupid contest, so I can change the rules. I think I’m changing the rules to, I win.