As Munchkin, newly barefoot, ran giddily and unsteadily from my arms and out into the enormous university gym filled with tennis balls and toddlers, teacher B turned to me and said:
"Oh, is it casual day at your work today?"
Snap! Hard to mistake that one!
Munchkin was up three times in the night; neither Pynchon nor I got more than three hours sleep. Somehow, we all slept in, until 8:10--and he had a meeting across town at 9:00. "You take the car today!" I shouted as I ran to get Munchkin out of bed. Comedic chaos ensued, and Pynchon made it out the door shaved and showered, but un-fed--I couldn't even tell you what he was wearing, I saw so little of him. I showered, having plunked Munchkin down for a rare and therefore fantastically-peaceful 20 minutes of Treehouse, but didn't manage to do my hair or get past the mascara and lipgloss stage of makeup because I had to retrieve the rain suit from the dryer and pack up all my work gear and try to sort out breakfast.
By the time we left the house, Munchkin had clean clothes, all her outdoor gear, a nice hairdo, and a cheerful smile. I had on my skinny-cords, Diesel sneakers, long layered t-shirts under a neat sweater, a tailored jean jacket, and a pashmina.
"Munchkin, we're taking the bus!" I intoned cheerily.
"Hooray!"
Doudou in her seatbelt, strapped into the stroller, she kept up an excited monologue all the way to the bus stop and, indeed, all the way to daycare: "Bus! Take a-bus a-daycare a-Mom! Yay! See a-ambulance! Doggie! Walk a-stroller! Daddy work a-car! Hi man! Hi! I take a-bus a-daycare! Beep-beep!"
I was happy: we were really late, sure, but we were both clean, and, bonus, I didn't accidentally leave anything at home, AND I had correct change for the bus--a bus that came, conveniently, only after we got to watch an ambulance driving sedately past us. Exciting! I was patient and indulgent and we had, Munchkin and I, lots of fun watching the High Street traffic, getting on the bus, riding the bus, walking across campus to daycare.
I was, actually, feeling like a success, even though it was past 10 am and I couldn't figure out a way to carry a latte and push the stroller at the same time.
So, B? Stuff it! "Casual day at the office": you know FULL WELL that I'm a professor. You should remember that I'm on sabbatical, because I've told you more than once. I wear what I like and I keep the hours that suit me. Keep your passive aggressive comments to yourself, please.
(B, it is worth noting, also made a big deal to me, during the House Sale and House Purchase Condo Developer Jerks Emotional and Financial Nightmare, about how I should be sure to keep daycare informed about the process, because it would be very emotionally gruelling for Munchkin to move, and that they needed to be able to help her out through a difficult and scary transition. Um, yeah, twist that knife a little deeper into my overworked anxiety wound, wouldya?)
(And I should say: she's really good with the kids. She's one of the older workers, and she's used to being a mother hen. Maybe she just likes to feel competent. She takes very good care of my Munchkin.)
Still.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Snap! Dissed again!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
18 comments:
Your outfit sounds cute to me. And way more dressy than a casual day outfit. Do professors dress up at your university?
B *should* stuff it. Like you can't help your own child through the transition? Plus, she's TWO. We moved our B (not to be confused with Teacher B) when she was just turning two and she forget in about 24 hrs that we had ever lived any where else. And we changed cities and daycares. I disagree that it's grueling, but that's just me.
I'm sure you are adorable today.
Don't fret.
Really.
Niiiiice. It is always great to start the day with a Mommy Drive-By.
If that is a casual outfit I am in deep doudou - sorry I could not resist!
You sound completely pulled together, I mean a casual pashmina draped about?
The thing with passive-aggressive comments is that they somehow sting worse, it is like the inference can be taken to a whole new level of insult.
Bah Teacher B.
Deep doudou. Heh-heh. Good one. And YEAH! I thought I looked pretty cute, considering ...
Yeah, that sort of comment would get me riled. Of course, I never look "together." Shower and make-up? Clean clothing? You sound groomed and presentable to me.
I am wearing, for the record, one of my husband's polarfleece zip front sweatshirts in "Diarheal Infection Grey" and attractive baggy brown cords with some pancake batter on one knee. THAT is casual.
It sounds like a very stylish outfit... I bet she was just reacting to the fact that you didn't look like a staid grandma. Sounds like she's deliberately pushing your buttons.
I've noticed that the teachers at Swee'pea's daycare are really good with the kids, but generally quite lousy with the parents.
Since I go to work EVERYDAY with wet hair up in a bun (which I then braid at work), it sounds to me like you are very pulled together.
And I never get past mascara in my makeup routine anymore.
Maybe this is one of the hidden benefits of working in a male dominated field? No one expects me to look good....
I once had someone explain to me that they had suddenly realized that I'm not good at small talk, and it really helped them understand me better.
Verrry nice.
Sounds like you looked GREAT.
And I had to reread "Doudou in her seatbelt." because I was clearly thinking of something else.
BAh. Silly woman. My daycare staff, I must admit, has seen me in the full range from old university overalls to fancy meeting outfit, so nothing fazes them!
From what I could tell, you were very put together. My dayhome provider, too, has seen me in everything from a business suit to sweatpants and a t-shirt (complete with unwashed hair in a ponytail, which I remember asking hubs to smack me if he ever saw me in public like that...) Heck, my coworkers have seen me...ah, we won't go there.
"Stuff it" is right.
Grrr. You want me to beat her up? I'm in a fighting mood.
For the record, you sound more stylish and put together than I usually am, and I work in a sales office. Right now, my hair is air drying and I'm wearing polar fleece. When I go back to work and have to get two children out the door, I don't know how I'll look.
But it won't be good.
Passive aggressive is a killer.
Usually comments on clothes: where they came from, or why they are inappropriate.
Anyway, I like the bus stop story :) bus stops are good for children, I find.
Still... I'd be muttering under my breath "back of beyotch" but I am a cusser and will have to reign it in when B makes it to Nursery next Fall. I know that I'm gonna get called to the principal's office more than her.
Still. I loved what you were wearing last night. I am just sorry I didn't chat with you more, I felt fairly overwhelmed with the crowd of hot bloggers.
This sounds like a town and gown thing to me. Sad to say but you may need to force yourself to be an ambassador for your profession b/c people outside the profession simply don't get it. Ignorant ones make passive aggressive comments to boot.
Wow! Do you think she maybe projecting her issues onto you? Or maybe you remind her of one of her kids?
You should just innocently (accidentally) call her mom someday when replying to one of her digs.
Post a Comment