FiFi Jo Goes to School

Awoke today with ringing in head. Promise self will stop going to bed with Sambucca shots and wine chasers and amend my ways with warm milk instead. Realise ringing is phone under pillow so quickly take back previous comment about changing my bed-time drinking ritual. It's my son's School Principal calling me. This comes as a shock as Ex always deals with our offspring's minor concerns such as schooling, health issues and housing. (Apparently I have been deemed too child-like by the courts to be any use in these situations. If they mean I have the skin of an 11 year old and the capriciousness of a teen then yes, perhaps they are right). Seems had to see Principal "promptly" about a troubling matter regarding son # 2.

As haven't been to school in 'a few years', decided to go with what I used to wear as a youngster the few days I bothered to attend, ie short navy skirt made shorter with pins at hem, ankle socks with kitten heels and white see-through blouse with black bra. OK, maybe I covered up a fraction more back in the day, but only a fraction. Besides, have to compete with all the school mum's wearing similar outfits due amount of stay-at-home dad's on the increase. Hair in ponytails and a splash of red lippie and I was appropriately dressed and ready to hear what the old school master could possibly have to say about my amazing offspring. Upon arrival at the school, use vice-principals parking spot as is my due. Am made to sit and wait outside office and I can tell you, had flashbacks galore. One third of my misspent youth was wasted waiting for various teachers, aides, youth workers and principals throughout the country in a waiting room precisely like this one. Knowing my mother, it's a surprise I wasn't conceived in one (knowing me I am not so sure son # 1 wasn't).

Gestured into office with wave of talon-like hand by school front office bitch. Does every school have one of those? Meet Principal who is obviously suffering from short man/bald head syndrome (dangerous when combined with big nose/nerdy glasses syndrome). Ask him to get to the point after allowing him minimum amount of ogling time. Explains there were pictures drawn by son # 2 that were of concern and may be upsetting to me. It seems son had portraits of his family and friends with a big cross drawn over the likeness of me. Set Principal straight that if son wishes to worship me as the angel I am then what could possibly be the problem? And if he has used his talents (no doubt from my side of the family) to make abstract religious art then if the school cannot see the irony in it then I would have to rethink his educational needs. Principal explains it was not that sort of cross. Oh.

Leave school with a fistful of 'Parenting How-to' pamphlets and a promise that I will have more of a caring role in son's life. Do not mind the brochures but I thought the puppet show explaining how I can talk to my son was a little condescending. Although it did make me understand that a mother is usually a maternal figure to a son rather than the crazy aunt. Other than taking oestrogen tablets to get the maternal instinct to kick in there's not much I can do. Decide to enrol forthwith into one of the least hippy-like parenting courses on offer...


Next Day
Awoke with ringing in head. Feeling deja vu so remembered to check for phone. Was hippy puppet show class reconfirming my place in today's 'Have fun with Randy' day. Seems had too many vinos at local wine bar after school meeting and signed up for the wrong thing. Egads! Movement in bed next to me....is that, oh crap. Can see bald head and big nose peering shyly from beneath doona. Remembered School Principal had followed me to wine bar with idea to 'console' me about my poor parenting skills over copious glasses of wine. Seem also to recall something about never being allowed on school grounds again. Oh well, at least can keep role of crazy aunt.