Now That's Just Gross!

I should've known I was askin' for it, for some kind of karmic balancing, by gushing and bragging about my family and my great life lately. It's only 1:30 in the afternoon, and I'm ready for bed.

This morning Carl got Hannah out of bed at 6:00 a.m., then fell back asleep on the couch. He sleeps like the dead and I sleep with a fan going in the room because I sleep so lightly. Neither of us heard Hannah fixing herself some breakfast. Not cereal. Not a piece of bread. Not even a glass of milk. She ate and smeared an entire container of peanut butter. We had greasy peanut butter on the kitchen floor, on cupboards, and on the sheets where she left the all-but-empty jar. Peanut butter everywhere. Ugh.

Later, when I checked my bank accounts online, I discovered I had failed to write in a Two-thousand-five-hundred dollar credit card payment I had scheduled. Can you say "overdraft?"

The last karmic-balancing-straw occurred when I picked up Hannah from school. For a little history, I need to explain that Hannah's teachers informed that they wouldn't be doing anything new for the rest of the school year. Therefore, I didn't need to attend her class unless I really wanted to.

"It won't matter if she's inattentive?"

"Nah. We're just reviewing and finishing up from here on out." As a result, I didn't observe her 10:30 seatwork craft project which involved finger painting. You may think you know how this ends, but believe me. You couldn't possibly guess.

As Hannah's teacher buckled Hannah into her car seat, I asked Janet, the speech therapist, if today went any better than Monday. Janet walked towards me and gave me the so-so look, then said to the other teachers, "We should probably tell her about it."

"Yeah, we should," another teacher said. Silence. I thought my meetings-at-the-schoolhouse-door had ended when they told me I didn't need to attend her seat work sessions. What could this possibly be?

"We used white paint for some finger painting," Anne said. I immediately looked at Hannah's clothes, assuming they had been ruined by paint. No white paint. Anne continued, "We took Hannah into the bathroom to wash her hands with some other kids. After she soaped up, she rinsed her hands...um...in the toilet."

In the toilet?! I laughed out of nervousness, but noticed no one was laughing with me. Feeling even more nervous, I said something like, "That's not what we do at home." Brilliant. After some hmming and see-you-tomorrow, and you-might-want-to-watch-out-for-that-at-home, Anne actually said, "Well, there's never a dull moment."

Don't I know it.