You're goddamn right I'm wearing it.
I consider it my prize for a week spent providing key logistical, clerical and requisitioning support for a science fair, violin recital, orchestra concert, talent show, student council fundraiser and teacher appreciation week. I remembered to send in the school picture money, re-register for baton classes and sign the take-home folder.
It was an impressive if exhausting performance right up until the day we were supposed to turn in all of the pop-tops the fourth-grader had been saving for a year in a coffee can in the hall closet.
I blew it.
I was one sticky note short of beating those sadists at the local school district who designed this week's schedule, and by the time I remembered the coffee can in the closet, I was already at work and someone else's class was collecting the pop-top honors.
Nevertheless, when the tiara arrived, I donned it. It was, technically, my payment for a parenting essay selected for publication recently. But I am claiming it as my prize for having navigated a week in which I did not kill any members of my family, despite ample provocation.
I am particularly proud of the fact that the 13-year-old survived recycling day.
I was scrambling around that morning trying to get breakfast, lunches and coffee made while be-ribboning the potted plant the fourth-grader was bringing for that day's teacher appreciation tribute. And frankly, I was a little off my game, having been up the night before until 1 a.m. typing up the results of his painstaking inquiry into the electrical conductivity of various chemical compounds. Luckily I was up by 6 a.m., so I had time to cut out lightning bolts for the display board. But I knew I would never get the recycling bin to the curb on time and so, uncharacteristically, I asked for help.
The teenager declined, and when I showed him my frowny face, he offered this explanation:
"Mom," he said, in an exasperated tone, "I have had kind of a busy week."
I know, I know. I should at least have wounded him.
Photo: Frowny face with tiara. Now they will respect me.
Oh yes. Wounded at the VERY LEAST.
Posted by: Miss Britt | May 07, 2008 at 01:17 PM
That's a wolverine best left in her crate, methinks. Once I began wounding him it would be so hard to stop.
Perhaps the best self portrait I have ever seen, Miss K.
Posted by: foolery | May 07, 2008 at 03:23 PM
You totally deserve that tiara. And the grimace. In fact, you deserve a medal too. I hope your family is either presenting you with one, or giving you a string of pearls and some beauty queen gloves to go with your tiara, on Sunday. :)
Posted by: MommyTime | May 07, 2008 at 04:58 PM
Having lived through two thirteen year olds myself, I say he's lucky you didn't aim a couple of those lightning bolts at him!
Love the tiara by the way, it suits you...
Posted by: Cactus Petunia | May 07, 2008 at 05:19 PM
Have I mentioned lately how nice it is to be retired, living in the woods, with nothing to worry about but Ducklings, reading funny blogger mamas, what to cook for dinner and is it a Merlot night or a Burgundy?
Signed, Vegetable in the south.
Posted by: Audubon Ron | May 08, 2008 at 07:14 AM
You have more than earned that tiara.
I bow to you, oh Queen of science project-violin recital-orchestra concert- fundraiser-teacher appreciation week.
Well played.
Posted by: eurolush | May 08, 2008 at 09:44 AM
Well I certainly won't hold it against you if a lightening bolt or two cracked in his direction. In fact, I might be planning a storm here. We're on day 4, not that I'm counting, of scream fest. Everything that comes out of my two year old's mouth must be in the form of a screechy whine, otherwise no one can understand. Did someone say merlot?
Posted by: ok, where was I | May 08, 2008 at 10:21 AM
I say we all head to Ron's house on Sunday. Please let it be Burgundy night.
SK
Posted by: Suburban Kamikaze | May 08, 2008 at 11:32 AM
Awarding prizes for *not* killing. Bossy likes it. Think the penitentiary system will adopt?
Posted by: BOSSY | May 10, 2008 at 10:05 AM
Perhaps you can use the tiara as a warning signal. Mother wearing tiara means 'Don't mess with me child or I will go postal'. Hmmm, I like that idea. Must dig out my purdy tiara.
Posted by: Kelley | May 11, 2008 at 03:15 AM
Holy crap this resonates! I got to school this morning and guess what! It's Teacher Appreciation Week! And I forgot the friggin flowers!
Does this ever end?????
I find it kind of ironic that the Teachers get a whole week of appreciation just after my one whole DAY of appreciation.
Hmmph!
Posted by: Optimist | May 12, 2008 at 07:31 AM