8 TIME ZONES

Now onto the meat of my angst: a letter from one of the kindergartens Victor might go to in the fall (quick background: Victor's with his dad in Finland until July, and then he'll start kindergarten with me in Minnesota in the fall). Checklist of things to bring with me to the "kindergarten round-up:" 

Your child's social security number: Check

Your child's birth certificate: Check, and also super cool because it's actually a Consular Report of Birth Abroad

Your child's immunization record: Got it. 

Your child: Um. Really? Will a virtual version suffice?

"See," as I explained to the school's secretary, "my son is with his father overseas right now, so he wouldn't be able to make it to the round-up."

"Oh, okay. When will he be back?"

"July."

"Oh. My goodness. Where overseas?"

"Finland."

"Oh. Wow. That must be really hard for him."

At this point, I laugh weakly as I always do when people say this, which they do all the time. (In another post, I'll go into all the hurtful things well-meaning people say when I explain our situation, but that's for another day.)

"Yeee-ah. So is it worth it for me to come to this thing, or ..."

"Well, you're certainly welcome to come, or you can bring all the forms in a different time, too."

Let me think about it for a second: Do I want to go alone to an event where every other parent there has an adorable four- or five-year-old pre-K child holding their hand/clinging to their leg/running rampant? Kinda like going alone to the prom. I think I'll skip it. (Plus, this school wasn't even first choice on our list, so there.)

So I'm free next Thursday from 4:30 to 5:30 when every other parent of a pre-K kid in our neighborhood will be at the school. Thank God, there's a yoga class to go to.

Tomorrow: Preparing for my boyfriend's son's birthday party this weekend, the first event attended by both me and his ex-wife. (I guess I do have stuff to blog about.)