My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Needed: Tums & Beer (not necessarily in that order)


God, I donít even know where to start. My sad little world just kind of blew up in my face on Thursday when the daycare director asked if Dusty was going to be attending the after-school program next week. I looked at her, puzzled because Iíd filled that form out already, and said, well, yes, sheíd be bussed from B-dam Elementary, right?

ďOh, no, we only provide transportation from Tough Luck Elementary, So Sorry Elementary, You Are Doomed Elementary, and Can I Kick You When Youíre Down Elementary.Ē

Can I say FUCK? Thank you.

I was royally screwed. One minute I had it all sewn up Ė Iíd been led to believe by this very same director that they bussed from all the schools. Nary a word about only certain schools. No bells went off when I very clearly wrote on the form which school Dusty would be attending. Thanks. Thanks one hell of a lot! Ė the next minute I havenít a clue what Iíll do with her at 3:00pm three days a week from here until eternity.

So, on Friday, I made a gazillion phone calls. First, I called the school to find out what my options were. Oh, the voice mail recording informed me, the schoolís office was closed on Fridays during the summer. How convenient for them.

Then, I called another place down the road which had advertised its after-school program on a sign (this is the same building that houses our branch library). Well, apparently, even though Dustyís school is the closest in proximity, the school system will not provide transportation because of insurance issues, crossing some imaginary border between school districts, wanting to suck and make my life hell. Those kinds of reasons. I felt like Linus receiving Lucyís Five Reasons Why Not and looking at the business end of a fist.

Not that they werenít nice about it. They called me back a couple of times but basically just wished me luck.

Yeah. So.

The one place that does offer transportation to an off-site after-school care program is Video Preschool, the dreadful place I removed Dusty from last fall. The place that did cookie-cutter ďartĒ projects and played videos during naptime.

I was really, really, really, really unhappy about that. I really, really, really, really, didnít want to eat crow and come crawling back to that place. I did, though, call them to find out how to register Dusty, if need be, and the phone just rang and rang and rang. Apparently theyíve never heard of customer service or voice mail. It reminded me of how much I hate that slack-ass place.

In desperation, I tracked down the phone number for the mother of one of Dustyís preschool friends who will be going to her school. I knew they were going on vacation this past weekend and they arenít going to be at the orientation on Thursday but I figured it was worth trying.

On Saturday, we were gone for an all-day extravaganza (which Iíll detail separately) of baby shower/house warming party (you know, the one I thought was LAST weekend?) and a dinner for my dad who is 65 today (happy birthday, dad!). I was feeling not so good, physically, had not slept well for days, had suffered bad nasal allergy attacks and my stomach was untrustworthy. Now, on top of all this was a lovely layer of stress over this after-school fiasco.

I am beginning to think there is a conspiracy against working mothers. Really. Iím not kidding, as Dusty would say.

When we returned from our 12-hour voyage, there was a message on our machine from the mother. The Y holds an after-school program AT THE SCHOOL. On-fucking-site after-school care! Yee haw!

So, this morning I called the Y, downloaded the form and now have to spend my lunch hour(s) getting a copy of Dustyís birth certificate and health form. Then, I can sign her up for after-school care which also allows Dusty to attend the Y on days the school is closed. And...they have a pool. Dusty will be beside herself.

Man. I really donít want to go through THAT again anytime soon. Anybody got a beer-flavored Tums?

Actually, that would probably be incredibly nasty. Make that 2 regular Tums and a beer.

Iíll see you later. Iíve got errands to run before I pass out.


10:31 a.m. ::
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