Preschool Christmas Program.
The words strike fear in my heart. They make my head hurt. They fill my soul with dread.
Rightfully so, of course. Our very first experience with the Annual Preschool Christmas Program was something spectacularly short of stellar. When I read the post that I wrote about it, I realize that I must sprinkle glitter and optimism on everything because that crap was WAY worse than anything I said. Way, way, way, way worse.
Every year since has been annoying and frustrating and irritating. Between bobble-headed grandmas in the first row, a severe lack of food, poor timing, sardine-packed rooms, awful weather, and a general desire to beat up everyone who kept me from being able to see my kid while she was on stage, I've never quite managed to have a good time at one of the programs. Most mind-numbingly frustrating has been my complete inability to get so much as *ONE* photo of my kid on stage. Just one! It has never happened.
This year I had a plan. A good one, too.
I planned to leave work early enough to make sure I would be at the fire hall where the program would be happening the very second they opened the doors. I fully intended to be the absolute first person there so that I could tackle the best chair in the place and declare it mine. MINE!
I left work exactly as planned, dashing first to pick up Alexis from school, through the drive thru at McD's so I could shove some dinner down her throat, and then quickly home so I could let the dogs out. It all had to happen quickly if I wanted to stay on schedule.
Um, Miss Megara Madison, the Bulldog born to annoy me, has never heard of this fancy word, "schedule." She's all whhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaat? You arrrrrrrre in a huuuuuurrrrryyyy? Whhhhhhyyyyy?
I have never seen any dog take so freaking long to figure out which blade of grass was most deserving of her poop. I mean, she's generally slow, but this was a whole other level of insanity, especially considering she HATES cold weather and is usually abnormally expedient this time of year. If there is snow outside, odds are I'll have to yell at her not to go in the doorway. Seriously.
All told, Miss Megara Madison, the Bulldog born to annoy me, managed to add twenty unforseen minutes to our stop at home.
Alexis and I barely made it to the fire hall before the Christmas Program start time.
There was no best chair for me to tackle. In fact, there wasn't a single chair anywhere for me to tackle. Every single seat was filled with either a body or a coat (apparently some people have invisible family members or something). Mr. Husband and I took up residence along the back of the room as I stood chatting to another mom who had gotten there too late to sit down.
That mom is a genius. A GENIUS. Just as our kids were about to go on stage, she whispered that she was just going to run up and take a few pictures from the aisle. As she said it, the clouds parted, a bright ray of light shone down on me, and the angels began to sing. I realized that she was on to something, but that there was more I could do.
People, this was our last year of the Preschool Christmas Program. I have suffered through dozens and dozens of rude people jamming their way to the front and making it impossible for little ol' passive me to get a decent photo. It was MY TURN to be one of those clueless rude people. After all, we moved to a different school district than everybody else will be at next fall. I may never see some of those parents again. It was my turn to be a jerk! Woooo!
I totally snuck up to the front of the room, sat on the floor two feet from the stage, and took all the photos that I wanted. It. Was. Marvelous.
