Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Preschool Panic: Motherhood FAIL Edition
We're only two weeks into 2015 and the preschool madness has already reached epic levels. Every Mother I know is a complete wreck. Sure, we all know that it doesn't really matter where our kids go to preschool, but when you've spent the last year and a half of your life going to ridiculous lengths to ensure your child's entrance into the very best institute of lower learning, it's hard not to let your anxiety get the best of you when the acceptance emails starting hitting people's inboxes.
The good news is that we made it to the interview round for one of the schools on our list. We're scheduled for a totally anxiety-inducing "coffee talk" with the Director this coming week, so naturally I've lost approximately 20 hours of sleep worrying about stupid things like what I'm going to wear and how much Xanax I should pop to keep me just chilled out enough that I don't say something idiotic but not so much that I'm a walking zombie.
Here's the bad news: I am a complete and utter idiot and I somehow missed the application deadline for our first choice school. We've known this school was our first choice for going on two years now, so the fact that I somehow managed to not apply in time is just ridiculous. I thought that I'd checked all the deadlines and I didn't see anything about having to get my act together before December 31st, but I'm sure it was probably listed in bold print somewhere and I read it but didn't process it. That's what happens when you're juggling a newborn, a toddler, a freelance writing career and the educational future of your offspring.
I've been giving myself a hard time ever since I found out about my royal f*ck up. I guess ultimately it won't really matter whether the Muffin Man spends his days eating paste at School A or School B. However, if he does end up addicted to drugs or pursuing a dead-end career as a stand-up comedian, I'll be completely convinced that it's all my fault for not ensuring that he had a decent chance at admission to the right preschool.
Oh well, at least Noah will have plenty to discuss with his future therapist about my numerous Motherhood shortcomings.