Wednesday, September 27, 2006

They All Look Alike to Me ...

*** don't jump on me for the title of this post, it's said completely tongue in cheek.

Melanie has been having an awesome time at her school.  All of the kids have various "issues" of special need, be it non-English speaking, some type of developmental disorder, speech (Melanie), whatever.    The preschool is technically for "4 year olds who are at risk of not succeeding in kindergarten".  I saw a little boy with Downs the other day in the carpool line.  While part of me is a little sad that Melanie is considered "special needs" (well, duh!  She is!  And it's not really a surprise to me!) the other part of me is thinking, well, maybe this will give her an opportunity to be a leader, or a comforter, or a nurturer for those kids in her class who may have more serious problems than she does.

One of her little classmates is a little girl who was adopted from China.  I'll call her Kim.  Melanie and Kim are exactly the same height, have the same black hair (of course ... duh part II) and are of course, both cute as buttons.  (Kim wears glasses!)  But for some reason, the ladies in the pickup like ALWAYS get the two mixed up.  Yesterday the lady had Melanie in Kim's mom's car, IN THE CARSEAT, before Kim's mom said, 'Um, that's not my kid!'  I was gesturing out the window that they were putting Melanie in the wrong car ... and this is not the first time it's happened.  One time they tried to put Kim in MY car.   Yesterday, our two cars were right next to each other, so we moms took the opportunity to introduce ourselves, and have a little laugh about it.  But it's really kinda sad!!  Do they ever put the little white kids in the wrong car?  Oh well ... what are you gonna do? 

I'm almost (ALMOST) tired of living like a vagabond.  I'm almost tired of not being able to find anything, of having all the stuff in my pantry strewn around the dining room.  I'm almost tired of the dust in the entire house, of sawdust in my coffeemaker.  Of having to rinse the dishes in the powder room, or cart them downstairs in a bucket to rinse them in the laundry room.  Of having to squeeze myself between the dining room chairs and the sideboard to make lunches.  Of permanently having dusty goo between my toes when I walk around barefoot.  Of having people in my house (even if they are really, really nice people).  Okay, complaining is over.  Granite folks come today to make the templates.

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