I'ts My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

Last week, I put in an application to teach preschool at Jacob and Adam's school.

This morning, I asked for it back.

Way back last August when this day wasn't much of a blip on my radar screen, I signed up to organize the end of year preschool party because, well, no one else did. "How hard can that be?", I said to the teacher who said, "Oh, not hard at all!", and I believed her.

So for the past three weeks I have come up with ideas all on my own, purchased supplies all on my own, emailed parents with information on said ideas and supplies with disclaimer to PLEASE let me know if you have a better idea or something else you'd like to do because I am nothing but flexible.

Everybody thought what I had was fine. At least the two emails I got back said that.

You want to know what we did right?

I bought fifteen canvas bags at 2 bucks a pop plus enough fabric paint and foam stickers and bling-bling to cover each and every one. I also sent another email to each family asking that they send a small toy to fill a Welcome Summer bag. I directed them all to the Target Dollar Spot and told them not to spend over a dollar a kid. I also put together two plants for the two teachers and let them know I was making a gift card tree for them both and if they desired, they could add to it.

Everybody thought that was fine. At least the two emails I got back said that.

I sent an email to the the five mothers who volunteered to help letting them know what food and drink I would need. They all signed up for something. We were set.

So today was the party. That party that no one seemed to have a problem with, except, seems people had a problem with it.

The bags were dumb. The colors were ugly. Who the heck thought paint was a good idea? OMG, my kid stepped in ALL. THAT. PAINT. on that bag drying on the floor, someone is going to have to pay for my kid's shoes. We're going to Ella's brother's party because this party is so lame. Who the heck thought paint was a good idea?

The small toys I requested, only five parents brought them.

The gift cards....only six.

One mother did bring in a bunch of cupcakes even though I didn't ask for cupcakes and I guess I acted a little surprised because according to her child who announced to every one there, Adam's mommy is mean to my mommy. Excuse me for trying to decorate, dole out food, and keep paint off your precious child's skin and not shower you with undying love for those greasy cupcakes.

Dear Preschool Parents,

F*ck your damn cupcakes. If you don't give the school your real email address, then you won't get the party information, that just isn't my fault. That goes for all of you who swore you didn't get the email yet seemed to know exactly what time to be there and when the pizza would show up. If you don't like paint, don't let your kid squeeze it all out all over the place without your supervision. Stupid me, thinking you might help him at all. I'm sorry there were not enough oranges to go around, I told the orange lady to bring enough for fifteen, apparently she couldn't read. I'm sorry your kid wanted supreme pizza, I could only afford cheese because, FYI, I dished out close to $150 for that shitty party that next time YOU can organize.

Kiss it,

Adam's Mean Mommy who WON'T be working there next year.

P.S. Maybe teach your kid to watch where he's walking. I am not paying for his shoes.