A month ago it was pyjama day at school. In February. In Canada. It was -20 and most kiddos probably suffered frost bite from being poorly dressed.
Crazy hair day was the Friday before March break. My girls and I were up early, had breakfast and were dressed by 8am. Then they pulled out the hair chalk to colour their hair for Crazy Hair Day at school. They have dark hair. Not black, but dark. My youngest has fine hair that’s lighter than her sisters so we grabbed a bright pink chalk and rubbed it on her hair. Then we smoothed it into her hair. We succeeded in getting the tiniest bit of colour on her scalp ad a tonne on our hands and the towel. Of course, the other two girls had to try for themselves with every colour to make sure they were working. So off we went to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy coloured hair spray in a can. Requests for rainbow streaks and pink polkadots and three shades of purple. They had green and they had purple. And it was raining. And windy. And bitterly cold. And I had to stand in the parking lot and spray their hair with a towel wrapped around their face and more colour landing on my hands and white winter jacket then on their hair. By the time I had a sufficient amount of colour applied haphazardly on three heads, I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore and I had a contact high from the fumes. And then they pulled their toques on because it was freezing and they got hairspray everywhere I had tried not to get it.
Today was celebrity day. I forgot until last night when right before bedtime they start discussing who they are going to be. You know what’s helpful? Telling your mama that’s what. So this morning, after they slept in and wanted a hot breakfast (which they helped make) I had to help my youngest daughter find a Katy Perry circa Roar outfit despite a lack of leopard print in the house. She went to school looking more like a fifties era teeny bopper but I’m good with that. Then I had to find my fake tattoo sleeve for my middle-y to dress up as Tegan (from Tegan and Sara) and convince her not to wear her leather jacket or run in her motorcycle boots. As the middle-y was posing for selfies to send to friends, I realized my oldest wasn’t wearing her time-turner necklace with her Emma Watson as Hermione Granger outfit. Which was right about the time I found out she lost it a few weeks ago. That it wasn’t a necklace but a keychain she had tied with a rubber band to a broken necklace that she tied around her neck. To no one’s surprise but her own, it fell off. She’s heartbroken about this but she was also quite obstinate that her makeshift necklace the day she lost it was a perfectly reasonable choice. For those not in the know: I MAKE JEWELLERY. I HAVE PLIERS TO FIX NECKLACES. SHE DID NOT ASK FOR HELP. Listen, I admire that she independently pulled together a solution. I do not admire that it was dumb. (No, I didn’t use that word with her.) and I’m pretty annoyed she hid it from me. Well, I was annoyed and then I exhaled and told her that she must be disappointed she lost something that has so much meaning to her and that she was suffering the consequences of poor decision making.
Next Friday is sports jersey day which will inevitably result in my youngest having a meltdown because she doesn’t actually own a team jersey that fits her. Thankfully my other two have hockey jerseys.
I find it emotionally, mentally and physically stressful to deal with these ridiculous days at school. I have enough on my plate just remembering to pack snacks and lunches. Don’t get me wrong, if I could have a costume ball for my birthday and a Halloween party I would. I’d even replace Valentine’s day with a second Halloween if I could. We throw fabulous theme parties for our girls and dress up when we can. But you know what none of that involves – a 7am wakeup call and shipping my kiddos off to school.
The act that my husband’s car aka golf cart was in the driveway blocking us in when we stepped outside with mere minutes to get to school while it was raining and that the locks don’t unlock from the outside (yeah, figure that out) was just the icing on my cake.