Last year I helped out quite a bit in Miss C’s kindergarten class. I knew her teacher, having volunteered in her class two years in a row through Junior Achievement, and because of that, her teacher never hesitated to ask me to do some additional take home tasks, such as assembling class packets, which, unfortunately, turned into the volunteer job from hell and me toting a box of worksheets from home to work and then back home again. I also volunteered in the classroom every Friday that I could since that’s my work from home day.

This year it’s a different song and dance. Miss C’s teacher is new to our school system. During the first grade parents meeting last week she asked that no parents volunteer for the entire month of September so that the kids could get acclimated to her.

You could have heard a PTO pen drop when she made her request.

Our elementary school is known for the zealous army of parent volunteers willing to take on the most difficult of fundraising tasks. We need to sell five tons of frozen gourmet cookie dough in a week? No problem! We need to organize and throw the biggest fundraising carnival featuring a special performance of Cirque deu Soleil in the school gym? Let’s do it!

Frankly, I wasn’t too surprised by her request since one of my friend’s daughters is one year older than Miss C and she’d already told me that first grade teachers don’t want as much in room volunteer time by the parents.

At first I felt rejected not having Miss C’s new teacher assign me with a volunteer project within 48 hours of school starting, but then I came to my senses and realized “Good God Woman You HAVE IT MADE!” I happily filled out the volunteer form and noted that I can help with field trips and with reading to the class, but it’s nice to not feel obligated to spend my Fridays hovering over the laminating machine in the teacher’s work room. I’m planning on eating lunch with Miss C in the school cafeteria on most Fridays, but I can merrily be on my way and not feel pressured into “just one little project” by her teacher.

I think the helicopter room moms are starting to relax with the new teacher, but I’m trying to avoid them like the plague because the only thing worse than the teacher who knows how to push your volunteer buttons, is the elementary school helicopter mom.

Here are some tips for avoiding them:

Make no eye contact with other parents. You can get away with dark sunglasses inside the school building the first week, but after the second week it gets suspicious as people may suspect you’re hung over.

Don’t linger after school meetings and never arrive early for school meetings.

Never voluntarily give out your phone number or e-mail address as it will be distributed soon enough.

Consider setting up a separate e-mail address that you only give out for school information.

Always be prepared with a pat excuse for rushing off after school (i.e. we have soccer practice, dance class.)

Use your other children as an excuse. (i.e. “I’d love to talk more about the XXXXX, but I need to pick up Sallie Mae by 3:30 for a dental appointment.)

Use your spouse as an excuse. (i.e. “I’ve got to run, hubby needs me to drop something off at the post office.”)

Use your dog as an excuse (i.e. “Fluffy’s in the car, gotta run, byeeeeeeeee!”)

So do you have any tips for avoiding signing your life away to the PTO? Is there a balance?

Friday, 6 p.m.

Hubby: Do you need a glass of wine?

Me: YES.

Hubby: Do you need a Big Gulp of wine?

——————————-

Saturday, 8 a.m.

Miss A: My elbow hurts mommy. (She is laying down on the couch and rubbing her forehead.)

Me: Do you mean your temple?

Miss A: Yeah.

——————————

Sunday, 7:45 p.m.

Miss C: My sister is the best girl in the world!!!!!!!!! (Hugs Miss A as they both scream with glee while I push them home from the playground in our bike cart.)

—————————–

Sunday, 8:15 p.m.

Miss A: Mommy is plankton real?

Me: Yes.

Miss A: Where does he live?

Me: In the ocean. Wait a minute, do you mean Plankton on Sponge Bob?

Miss A: Yeah. (Clearly we are downing the Sponge Bob Kool Aid around here.)

—————————–

Monday, 3 a.m.

Miss C: MOMMY!

Me: Yes, baby.

Miss C: I didn’t have a nightmare, but my throat hurts really, really bad.

Me: Oh nooooooooooooooooooo.

It’s funny, I don’t really consider myself a mom from the Deep South (I don’t like sweet tea, which is probably blasphemous, or belong to the Junior League), but nonetheless I find myself still calling my mama and daddy mama and daddy and last night I “hollered” at one of our neighbors: “I love ya’lls new porch!”

So there you have it. Southern I am ya’ll.

Read about my quest to tone down the twang at work over at Deep South Moms. I also wrote recently about ways to prepare for your next job interview at Blissfully Domestic.

At Savvy Housewife I’m posting giveaways every Monday. This week’s giveaway is for a plush toy from Douglas Toys. I’m also starting a new Save and Tell feature with frugal shopping tips and I hope you’ll do a little frugal show and tell while you’re there.

Don’t forget to comment on the GILF photo from Wednesday (Joe Francis eat your heart out).

Have a great weekend!

p.s. If you’re anal retentive like me, you’ve already started thinking about Christmas shopping. Tiny Tag Designs has generously extended their special sidebar ad here on Blonde Mom Blog with the 20 percent discount code. So go click on the and pick up a little sumpin’ sumpin’ for the woman in your life!

We have a winner! Phil Wilson, who commented “The officer was shocked to see what Britney Spears looked like without makeup,” was the favorite chosen by myself and the best friend. The runner up is Connie at The Young and The Relentless, which may be my new favorite blog name, who wrote, “Jim Bob had no idea it was against the law to wear his wife’s swim suit to McDonalds.”

The best friend e-mailed me this awesome Kodak moment yesterday that was captured in our hometown. Girl, please warn me the next time you send me something this hilarious while I’m at the office.

It has all the icons of sleepy small Southern town America and Jerry Springer: tattoos, cellulite, McDonald’s, and the local cash advance store.

I thought I’d have some fun a la Mrs. Fussypants and host a Caption That Inappropriate Photo Contest.

Here’s my stab at it:

“Granny feared she’d never qualify for the Spring Break 2009 Hot Mama Competition during Daytona Biker Week once her real age was printed in the local paper.”

The winner of the photo caption contest will receive a Break Out The Good Liquor, The Kids Are Back In School, Thank You Jesus book collection. I have several fun books that were sent to me this summer to review before it dawned on me that the only leisure reading I do is in 5-minute snippets while stuck in the grocery checkout line or every 8 weeks when I skim In Style at the hair salon. The winner will receive Mrs. Perfect (I read it and really enjoyed it) by Jane Porter, whose Flirting With 40 book is being made into a movie starring Heather Locklear; It’s All About Him, by Denise Jackson, wife to country music super star Alan Jackson; and HUMP: True Tales of Sex After Kids. I’ve got a few more to toss in the prize box, too.

See? Something for everyone.

I’ll close comments to this post midnight Saturday and with the help from the best friend we shall pick a winnah!

I had serious trouble falling asleep last night. Typically I get a Sunday case momsomnia as I think about the week ahead, but it hit me last night. Miss A had a run in with bullies for the first time on the daycare playground yesterday and it broke my heart to hear her talk about it. One boy, in particular, she kept mentioning by name. He was apparently teasing her and calling her a “baby.”

Little boy whose name starts with C?

I’M SO ON TO YOU PUNK.

As Miss A and I snuggled in her bed after story time last night she had a request.

“Mommy will you turn off my turtle lamp?” There is a white ceramic turtle lamp on her dresser that was mine as a little girl.

“Sure baby.”

“Those big boys make fun of my turtle lamp mommy?”

“Do you think they’d make fun of you because you sleep with the lamp on?”

“Yes.”

It dawned on me that the boys are not only targeting her because she is the newest and youngest member of the 3-year-olds’ class, but perhaps because her speech is easy to target. Miss A has trouble pronouncing her “Rs” properly. She says “wain” for rain, “wabbit” for rabbit, etc. She also sucks her thumb at nap time.

Miss C, taking on the role of big sister, was full of sage advice concerning playground social semantics (don’t get me started on the “boyfriend” chasing thing that is apparently the first grade girls’ idea of recreation as Miss C has not one, but two, beaus.) This morning she asked Miss A to come back to her bedroom. Because Miss C normally bans her baby sister from her bedroom, I stood outside her door, just in the hallway, so I could observe. She dug around in her dresser drawer and pulled out a sparkly fuchsia headband, one of her favorites. She expertly placed it on Miss A’s head “so the mean boy wouldn’t bother her.” Apparently bullies hate the blinding girl power of girly bling.

Now Miss A is my spunky girl, full of enough social moxie (not to mention herself) to work the toughest of crowds. I’ve never seen her discouraged about school and she’s been very excited about her new room and new teacher. This morning I kissed her on the cheek as she watched TV.

“No school for me today mommy?” Her big brown eyes looked up at me.

“You’ve got school today, and grandma day tomorrow!”

I reminded her that her daddy was taking her to school.

“Do you want daddy to say something to your teacher about the mean boys?”

She paused, plucked her thumb from her mouth, and said, “No, I DO IT!”

That’s my girl.

Yesterday we went for a Sunday afternoon drive in the country to a beautiful farm in Leipers Fork, Tennessee, that is owned by one of the hubby’s clients. The lovely Miss Connie, who works for the client and who I have heard about for years, was our hostess. She had made a a big batch of two kinds of cookies, plus the best strawberry jello Cool Whip concoction ever. How is it that I have made it to 39 years of age without ever having that stuff?

Besides the horses and ponies and barn cats, the big draw was the farm’s newest residents: two adorable 9-week-old Corgis. Little girls and puppies go together like Dora and Boots, like Captain and Tenille, like Jack and Coke.

Miss C and Mr. C, AKA Casey The Completely Adorable Puppy

Repeat after me, “We will not get another dog. We will not get another dog. We will not get another dog.”

Puppies, especially, are a lot of work, and not merely cute photo props. Not to mention the fact that we have a psycho old biddy dog who would probably pee in the puppy chow. She is the queen bitch of our house and her glorious reign of supreme psycho bitchiness will not be undermined by some sassy young stud who already knows his way with the ladies.

The girls left about an hour ago with my mother-in-law to spend the night and won’t be back until late tomorrow afternoon. The hubby and I are going out to dinner to a new sports pub and we’re going to watch the Titans game on TV.

I am home alone.

We are out of beer.

AND wine.

I’m pretty sure that’s a party foul.

I made it through day one of first grade without shedding a tear, but the next two days were a struggle. Now I know why so many moms wear sunglasses in the building.

I’ve been parking across the street from school and walking Miss C in all week. After I help her with her backpack and lunch box, I try not to linger. There’s a song that they start the day with, before the pledge of allegiance, before the school pledge, and as soon as I heard the opening strains over the intercom system, the tears began to well up in my eyes. Not just any tears, either. These are big fat mama’s mascara is streaking down her face tears. I walked out as fast as I could Tuesday and Wednesday to keep from bawling.

The song is On My Way by Phil Collins from the Brother Bear movie soundtrack. In case you’ve never heard it, here is a video from You Tube.

And here are the lyrics:

Tell everybody I’m on my way
New friends and new places to see
With blue skies ahead yes
I’m on my way
And there’s nowhere else
that I’d rather be

Tell everybody I’m on my way
And I’m loving every step I take
With the sun beating down yes
I’m on my way
And I can’t keep this smile off my face

‘Cause there’s nothing like seeing
each other again
No matter what the distance between
And the stories that we tell
will make you smile
Oh it really lifts my heart

So tell ‘em all I’m on my way
New friends and new places to see
And to sleep under the stars
Who could ask for more
With the moon keeping watch over me

Not the snow, not the rain
Can change my mind
The sun will come out, wait and see
And the feeling of the wind in your face
Can lift your heart
Oh there’s nowhere I would rather be

‘Cause I’m on my way now-
well and truly
I’m on my way now

(I’m on my way now)
REPEAT

Tell everybody I’m on my way
And I just can’t wait to be there
With blue skies ahead yes
I’m on my way
And nothing but good times to share

So tell everybody I’m on my way
And I just can’t wait to be home
With the sun beating down yes
I’m on my way
And nothing but good times to show
I’m on my way

Yes, I’m on my way