My son Chase is in preschool, and is there for 3 glorious hours a day. Glorious for him, even more glorious for me. We get a weekly newsletter from his teacher, and last week we got one that had the upcoming events calendar, and on August 31 it said “VPK no dropoff.” I just assumed they were telling parents they had to drop the kids off in the car line and not walk them into the classroom anymore (you know, to sort of cut the cord for those mommies and daddies who don’t want to leave). Look, this is my third child and I’m 44 years old. Ya ain’t gotta tell me twice. I pretty much slow to a roll before booting him out the sliding passenger door of my van to the waiting car line attendant. (I kid. I kid.)
So August 31 came and we did our usual morning routine. I was going to stay home and work on cleaning, so I didn’t bother getting ready. We got in the car, drove to the preschool, and I thought it was strange to not see the big long line of cars waiting to drop off kids. As a matter of fact, the parking lot was quite full.
And then I see it.
There was a sign saying, “NO DROP OFF FOR VPK. PLEASE GO INSIDE AND SIGN YOUR CHILD’S VPK ATTENDANCE RECORD.” No. NO!!! I was in my pajamas. My old grey t-shirt and waaaay too short knit grey shorts (that believe it or not in NO way matched the grey t-shirt). My hair was like when you go 2 days too long without washing it, wear it in a ponytail, and it gets that bump from the elastic band? Yeah, that. I didn’t brush my teeth. I had no makeup on (and had just had a massive breakout all over my face). But the worst thing of all…NO BRA.
I slapped on some foundation that I keep in a little emergency makeup kit in my console. I grabbed the spare hairbrush from the pocket behind the passenger seat and brushed like a maniac. Now, it’s a Christian preschool, and I’m pretty sure if I had bent over in the shorts I had on, they’d have been able to see clear up into my soul. So I gingerly got out of the car, discretely pulling down the pj shorts so at least my upper thighs weren’t out and waving hello to everyone. I ran around to the back of the minivan, looking frantically for the jacket I keep in the there for cold restaurants. Maybe that would hide most of what was going on. Well I found the jacket…I had placed it over a box of toys I was donating to hide them from Chase. I had two choices: 1) Yank the jacket off the box, exposing my evil secret to my son, who was standing right by me, or 2) Leave it and walk into that preschool proudly, owning the abomination that was me.
I chose #2.
I used my (thankfully) large purse to hide one boob, while grabbing my purse handle with the other arm across my chest to hide the other boob. I grabbed Chase’s hand and speed-walked inside.
“Mommy, you’re pulling me too hard! You’re walking too fast!”
Gah. I slowed my pace. His classroom is at the end of the ridiculously long hallway.
I went into the classroom…thankfully I only kind of know one mom and she wasn’t there yet. Chase ran to his seat, I signed the paper, kissed my sweet boy and ran for the door. Luckily his teacher was deep in conversation with another teacher and didn’t even acknowledge me.
Long hallway. His teachers from last year’s class. Parents coming down the hall toward me in droves. I kept my head down, boobs still, thighs slightly concealed and practically ran to my van.
I made it. I didn’t see one. Single. Person. I. Knew.
Praise the LORD.
And now I know what “VPK no dropoff” means.