Let’s All Waste A Lot of Time, Shall We?

Today was Back-to-School Night at the kids’ school.

Given that I sent in letters today informing their teachers and the principal that tomorrow would be their last day, I figured they’d realize I wasn’t coming.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Punksin still had to do a whole bunch of work today that was going to be shown to me…TONIGHT. At Back-to-School Night.

So did Pudding.

And they were VERY put out that I was not going.

“Aren’t you going, Mom?” Punksin asked.

“Um, no.”

“But WHY? I had to make a CARD, and a FOLDER, and the teacher kept my binder to SHOW you stuff…” she whined.

But there is no reason for me to go. You are not GOING back to school,” I replied.  “Not THERE, anyhow.”

But Mom, they think you’re coming,” she protested.

Now WHY would I spend TWO hours of my evening over there, to learn what they are going to be doing during the school year, when YOU WILL NOT BE THERE AFTER TOMORROW? That doesn’t even make sense!

Ugh! Mom!!!” Punksin groaned.

I shrugged my shoulders. “If they think that it still makes sense for me to come, then that’s their problem. To me that would be a colossal waste of time, for me, and for them to TALK to me. YOU ARE LEAVING.”

Oh, alRIGHT,” she stomped off.

I mean, really. Why would I go? Someone explain to me, WHY WOULD I GO? That would be the height of idiocy, to trudge over there and hear all about what the teacher will be doing, and what the kids will be doing, and what the school will be doing, and the fundraisers, and the trips, and the PTA group, NONE OF WHICH WE WILL BE THERE FOR.

Is it me?

I consulted with the Tech Guru and he made it abundantly clear that there was no fucking way HE was going. Not only have things at work been extremely busy of late, but he’s behind on some of his consulting. The last thing he needs to do is waste two billable hours. That’s $250. Or a nap, depending on how you look at it. Because given the hours he’s been keeping, naps are pretty much all he’s been getting.

Then, while we are eating dinner, his cell phone rings.

He chatters for a bit, looks confused, and then after muting the phone, says “The nurse at the school wants to know where to send the records?”

What?” I asked incredulously. This shit couldn’t wait until tomorrow?

I don’t know, something about where to send their medical records…” he trailed off while offering me the phone. He so does not deal with that kind of stuff. I mean, I really need to get a file together, the Here’s-What-To-Know-In-Case-Mommy-Drops-Dead file. Because he would be fucking CLUELESS. Put him in front of a computer and watch a genius at work. Ask him what shoe size Punksin wears or what the names are of the 3 stuffed animals Pudding takes to bed with him, and watch his eyes glaze over. HE doesn’t fucking know. He doesn’t have TIME to know.

(The animals, in case you are wondering, are a dog named Ruff-Ruff, a camel named Humps, and a rabbit named Mr. Cuddles. I think the Tech Guru is vaguely aware of Ruff-Ruff. Humps and Mr. Cuddles have not yet made it into his brain’s The-Absolute-Minimum-of-Shit-I-Must-Know-About-My-Kids-To-Be-A-Good-Dad repository.)

And that’s sort of what I’m kvetching about. Nobody has time to waste around here. Two hours is two hours of my life I can’t get back. After tomorrow, if I have my way, those people will NEVER SEE MY CHILDREN AGAIN. So why they would still expect me to go through the motions of Back-To-School night, I cannot in any way fathom. Trust me, if the kids were still going to be there, I’d have gone. Even if they were going to be there another MONTH, I would have gone. But one DAY?

No way. Not unless they paid us, and the going rate for both of us combined would have been $430 for 2 hours. That’s the only way that would have REMOTELY made any sense.

I’m glad they have time to waste, and I guess…I guess I should be glad that they still were interested in having us come. That they didn’t just write the kids off this morning when they opened the letters I sent in. They are teaching them right up until the very end, and that…well, that I can appreciate, I guess, even if it is, in Punksin’s case, stuff she already knows. I mean, they’re trying, right? I guess I have to give them that much credit.

But my TIME? For what we all know is coming to a crashing halt at 3:00 Friday afternoon? And there was a football game on too?

Come on, people. COME ON.

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