Archive for April, 2011

Don’t need no seconds.

RegularDad: Who wants more meatloaf?

10-year-old: Me!

7-year-old: Me!

RegularDad: What about you hon? You want another?

Me: No. I’m good. I’ve got a big hunk right here still.

7-year-old: No fair! How come you got the big hunk?

Me, chuckling telepathically to RegularDad, who’s sitting at the other end of the table, slightly red and smiling Real Big: Oh honey, let me tell you… because a long time ago, I was THAT HOT.

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ALL HAIL THE ARBITER OF ART: Epilogue.

So, I guess I should tell you how it all turned out.

We held our Afternoon with the Arts program all through the fall. We were a smaller group, and a somewhat braver and wiser group. But we pressed on. And it was… okay. A lot of people who had supported me and wanted to join us simply couldn’t due to other activities and commitments. A few people just quietly slipped away, and really, can you blame them? But we had enough people that we were able to host a few of them, and it went fine.

But I’ve stopped doing them now. There are just too many other things in my life right now that need to take a front seat. A couple of things just Had To Go. And Afternoon with the Arts was one of them. I told the kids that it was just temporary. That we’d try to get back to doing the Arts program again some day. But honestly? My stress levels decreased dramatically once I’d stopped doing that program plus a couple of other things I’d taken on.

So, it’s over, and it’s a damned relief, to be honest.

But there was one little story that I wanted to share with you all before I close the book on this little fiasco. It’s about the leader of the homeschool group who’d publicly denounced me and my Arts program in front of the entire community. We don’t usually run in the same circles, but our daughters are in a theater class together, so every Wednesday I have to see this woman, and right after this whole thing happened, seeing this woman was seriously distressing to me. I mean, really. She’d just roasted me alive on her crappy little homeschool board and now I had to stand outside a church and make pleasantries with her and all these other moms while waiting for our kids to be done rehearsing. What a FREEKIN’ nightmare, is all I’m sayin’.

So a few weeks after the fall production had started, the director’s car had broken down and I’d offered him and all his kids a ride home after the class. So instead of having to stand outside making nice with all the homeschool moms (hyperventilating the whole damn time), I busied myself with cleaning out my van and lifting extra seats into position. My car usually looks like a tornado ripped through it, so I kept myself nice and busy and (best of all) FAR AWAY from having to converse with the ridiculous excuse for a human being who runs the homeschool group. Sweet deal. But then, while I was stretching across the drivers seat, reaching for a bit of trash on the passenger side floor, I suddenly heard this incredibly loud THUNK!!! on the windshield. Startled, I jumped and squawked a bit, and got out of the car and looked around, and what do you think I saw?

The little preschool-aged son of the homeschool leader was standing at the far end of the parking lot, a rock in one hand and a Very Frightened Look on his face.

The THUNK!!! was loud enough to attract the attention of the other moms in the parking lot. His mother took one look at him, rock in hand, then at me and my car. Her eyes narrowed and she said: “What was that?”

“He threw a rock at my car,” I said. But faintly. Like maybe it wasn’t him? Maybe he’d just been standing there with a rock in his hand, and Coincidence of All Coincidences!  another rock came tumbling out of the Heavens and landed right on my windshield.

Hey… it could happen.

So, this woman — the one person in all the world I am currently the LEAST interested in speaking to AT ALL, crossed the parking lot, grabbing her son by the hand on the way, and the two of them arrive in front of me, and she’s talking to him the whole way over: “What were you thinking? Why would you do such a thing!”

She glanced at me and said, “I am so sorry!” and then she began this extravagant inspection of my windshield, an endless stream of apologies frothing out from her lips the whole time. “Really terribly sorry… is there a dent at all? a scratch? anything… I don’t SEE anything… it looks okay… but tell me do YOU see anything…” and then she looked at her son again and started in with the “how could you do such a thing???”

Etc, etc.

And I looked at the kid’s face. And you could just see it written all over him in the purest misery ever: He really, honestly never expected that this could happen. He was just bored from the waiting, and the rocks were just irresistable, and next thing you know: THUNK!!!

And I’m listening to the woman go on and on with the Never Ending Apology, and finally I said: “Look. It’s okay. Doesn’t look like it made a crack or a dent. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Well, if you see anything… anything at all!… tell me right away!”

I looked at the kid and said, “You aren’t going to do THAT again are you?”

He shook his head. Still miserable.

And she shooed him away, with more apologies, and that was the end of that.

I haven’t really talked to her since. The only time I ever see her is at this theater thing. And it’s usually pretty easy to just not even look at her. Honestly, I’m just not interested in her or her petty bullshit or her problems. But, if I had to have one more interaction with her, what better could I ask for than for it to be a scenario in which she’s desperately apologizing to me for something that could have resulted in hundreds of dollars of property damage.

No, it’s not the same as an apology for what she did, but it’ll have to do. I’ll take it.

All this happened back in the fall. I’ve been meaning to come in here and tell you all about it for months, but isn’t it odd how things like homeschooling the children can get in the way of my blogging about homeschooling the children? But that’s a post for another day.

Here’s hoping that day is sooner than six months from now. 🙂


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