Snack Mats - or why I sometimes suck at parenting

Tonight I officially became one of those parents that I - as a teacher - hate.  Savannah came home from PreK with an assignment: Turn a slightly crumpled piece of construction paper into an artistic rendering worthy of being her snack mat for the next eight months.  Now, to be fair, the teacher's instructions suggested making a collage of some sort.  WHICH would definitely imply that a 3 year old would need some assistance, right?

So it started innocently enough. What's a collage without pictures, really? I dug out a couple of  cute pics from our latest trek to the apple orchard and a few random zoo snapshots from earlier this summer.  Then I remembered that I had some ribbon courtesy of the Target dollar bins.  THEN I decided to lay the pictures out to decide how I could best convince Savannah to arrange them.  You get the idea...

Fifteen minutes later, the collage is a beautiful collection of touching pics artfully arranged with coordinating ribbons setting the color scheme off quite nicely.  Now this wouldn't be so bad if Savannah had at least sat near me as I "helped" her along. But no. Ladies and gentleman, I completed the entire art project with my daugther napping soundly in the next room!

The real dagger to my conscience came five minutes later when she awoke, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and proceeded to ask where her backpack was.  Why? "I want to show you the paper." Yeah, she didn't exactly understand how the glued masterpiece on the table was the same ratty piece of paper she'd stuck in her bookbag at preschool.  Then the guilt kicked in.  As a college friend often quoted in reference to the dreaded g word: "I just can't shake that shit."

Luckily, all it takes to get over an overzealous mommy is the chance to cut (with real scissors!) and glue (with real glue!) and stick on leftover Wonder Pets birthday stickers on the back of said placemat.  And let's hope I remember this lesson when the dioramas and fake volcanos start heading our way in a few years.

Take a number, please

I'm a big fan of waiting.  I know. Weird, right? I guess I should clarify that I'm a big fan of waiting until just the right time. I've never been one to really jump the gun on anything. I'd much rather sit back and debate the virtues of my various ideas until it seems just right.  That's where this blog comes in. I've been throwing around the idea of writing this for at least a year or two.  But where would I find the time? Forget the husband, two little girls, full time job, or even the MA thesis that I've been avoiding like the plague.  Perhaps I am busy. But really? I'm not that busy.  My complicated DVR schedule suggests that I may have more time that I realize.  So here it goes. My attempt to stop waiting around and finally start doing something I've always wanted to do. 

I suppose a little background info would probably be helpful.  I'm Melanie, an almost thirty (gasp!) former English major who teaches the finer points of grammar to middle schoolers. I've been married to Big P, the funny guy who rescued me from a horrific invitation to prom twelve years ago, for five years now and we've got two darling daughters, Savannah & Sophie.  Darling of course, because they're sleeping and giving their mama a few minutes of peace tonight.  I'm fairly certain that's not the adjective I would have used earlier tonight!