Conferences

A quick note – I just realized it has been more than a month since I’ve posted onto this blog. I resolve to get better! Not because you are all waiting with bated breath to read what I have to say (wait – you’re not????). But because I started this blog because I’m too lazy to write in baby books and/or journals so that someday my girls can look back and read about the adventures of their childhood. And so I can remind them how nice they need to be to me when I’m in the home. You know, whatever.

This past week, Miss Blair had her parent-teacher conference for PDO (Parent’s Day Out). You may remember that Blair actually started PDO last year, but then she decided to “put a pin in it so that Mommy and I can spend all day, every day together. Forever and ever. And ever.” Her words, not mine. Okay, my version of what I’m 99.9% sure was going through her head this time last year.

She seems to be enjoying it this year, and her teachers are two young, fun women who both have little kids – Miss Maggie and Miss Ashley. However, she does get a little nervous each day at drop off. And, she’s a bit – ah….aggressive sometimes. Okay, pretty much always, especially when her older sister is involved. Oh, and she could win an Olympic medal in fit-throwing. Honest-to-God, that child has the stamina of a Kenyan marathon runner.

Needless to say, I was a bit worried about what I’d learn.

As I very well should have been, it turns out. Because, after sitting in the conference for a few minutes (looking suspicious, I might add – I was running late to get there, and then started sweating profusely the minute I sat down), I realized something. These poor women have no idea which child is mine.

The little girl in their class they’ve been calling “Blair” shares nicely with other children. She listens well, and seems pretty unfazed when a child is aggressive with her.

And? And? Wait for it.

They’ve never, EVER seen her throw a fit. Never. Not once. Have they seen this:

Blair, completely losing her shit at Build-a-Bear. Who the hell throws a fit while picking out a toy? An almost-2 year-old.

Blair, completely losing it at Build-a-Bear about a year ago. Who the hell throws a fit while picking out a toy? This girl does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or, this:

In between high-pitched screams, she's yelling "Take. Pants. Off. LEASE!!!! (Please)"

In between high-pitched screams, she’s yelling “Take. Pants. Off. LEASE!!!! (Please)”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or, most recently, this:

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Taken at minute 22 of this particular fit. You know, because I wouldn’t pick up her Bunbun. WHICH IS RIGHT NEXT TO HER RIGHT FOOT.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Folks, two of these pictures are from last year, and the one above is from last week. The seasons change, but the scenery doesn’t – I just choose not to have photographic evidence of all the fits. Because, you know. I’d run out of storage on my phone.

They were shocked to know she was so “spicy” (as we like to call her) at home. Seriously! Shocked!

So, Miss Maggie and Miss Ashley are apparently getting the best of little Blair. In fact, they noted multiple times that she loves to come sit on their laps while the other kids play. And that she likes to check in with them every so often while out on the playground. And that she gives terrific hugs. (Let’s be honest – I’m not surprised she’d rather hang with the grown-ups – I was the same way. I still love hanging out with my parents’ friends just as much as my own!)

Which, when it’s all said and done, is probably exactly what I wanted to hear. She’s comfortable enough at her school to love her teachers and want to be with them. Which makes me even more happy with our choice, if that’s even possible.

And, she’s secure enough in my unconditional love for her that she’s able to channel the devil and act like a toddler possessed. Wait. Perhaps I’m doing TOO good of a job?!?!?

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! That’s funny! Too good of a job…

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Blair, at an event of mine two weeks ago. With a fever of 104. Which I didn’t realize until we were home. 2 hours past her naptime.

Nope. Job averagely-to-below-averagely done.

Whew.