We were running late this morning. Well, that’s not true. We weren’t running late. We were walking…plodding…ambling late because my children felt no urgency about the time whatsoever. Despite my pleas and protestations the girls stumbled and mumbled around the house like Joaquin Phoenix with a concussion.
Now before I tell you what happened, I’m going to offer a defense. And here it is: Occasionally my children’s Catholic school has a “dress down” day for the kids for which parents have to pay a dollar each. I don’t mind. The school has to break even somehow. And earlier this week, I stuffed three dollars into an envelope for a “dress down” day for the three girls. So today when they slumbered downstairs wearing regular clothes instead of their uniforms I, being intelligent and eager to find explanations for odd occurrences, settled on the obvious connection.
Seems right, right? But I was wrong. And not just a little wrong. I was the kind of wrong that’s going to live in infamy in the Archbold house. The kind of wrong that is acknowledged immediately as a mishap, quickly evolves into a spectacle, and germinates into a cautionary tale. Yeah, that kind of wrong.
You see, today was PICTURE DAY. And I didn’t know it.
Now, most mornings the children and I sit around and talk a little bit. In the mornings I’ve found their defenses are down and I get a lot more out of them. But like I said, today we were run…uh…we were late. So I threw some waffles into them, scrunched their hair into ponytails, and rushed them into the van where they asked for the radio so we didn’t talk much at all.
Life seemed rather fine at that moment, I must tell you. Got some tunes, kids were happy and dancing in the back row of the van. The baby was quiet mainly because her mouth had so much waffle in it that she was unable to move her jaw. The boy had his Power Rangers which he only dropped three times in the ten minute drive and begged me to pick up.
But then we pulled into the parking lot behind school and right away I noticed something different. I beheld ribbons in a girl’s hair. I spotted a silk shirt on a ten year old. I spied a second grade boy with creased slacks and “product” in his hair.
Oh Noooooooo! Ribbons? Silks? Slacks? Let me tell you, nothing says “Picture day” like a second grader in slacks and “product” in his hair.
I looked at my children in the rear view mirror and turned the radio off. “Uh guys, is today picture day?”
A little background is necessary here. The girls aren’t allowed to say “Duh” anymore. A few weeks ago my second grader came home with that word and it became a staple of every conversation for a few days.
“You doin’ your homework?”
DUH!
You wanna’ go outside and play?
DUH!
So I stomped the word right out of existence. So my girls didn’t say it but boy did they radiate a silent “Duh!” at me. The raised eyebrows. The extended arms with hands open. And the bemused sneer. You don’t know from being a parent until you realize your six year old thinks she’s smarter than you.
So I hastily parked in the first spot I found away from all the other vans so I could have a little privacy to turn the van into a cosmetic triage. I hopped out and flung open the side door, picked up the two Power Rangers that fell out, and looked over the girls as they jumped out. To me, their clothes screamed, “My Dad didn’t know it was picture day.” I watched jealously all the responsible parents parading the braids, bows, ribbons and curls into school. There was not a ponytail to be seen. Not one. And I wondered if I should run home, grab dresses, combs, and maybe a curling iron and run back. Or maybe we could all just go home. Call it a day. We’ll reschedule. But that even seemed stupid to me.
I looked them over to decide what to fix first. Their socks matched. Not too too many flyaways. No obvious stains. Hey, the girls weren’t a complete mess. Now, it might not be “Picture Day” good but I’d say their appearance was “Good enough for a Wednesday.” And I realized something. I don’t know how to do anything different than I’d done it. Job done. I wouldn’t know what to do with a curling iron anyway. So I relaxed. I kissed them and walked them into school and they talked about whether Wonder Woman could beat up Hawkgirl. They were happy. So, so was I.
But I know in about two weeks the pictures are going to come home and my wife is going to open them excitedly and then she’ll see them and know exactly what happened. She’ll ask me, “Did you forget it was picture day?”
And I’ll say, “Duh!”
February 13, 2009 at 4:45 am
Oh, Matthew, I truly enjoyed reading this!! From the “cosmetic triage” to the “product” in the young man’s hair. Hilarious!!
The pictures of the girls will really epitomize your family’s life right now. And, sometimes, in a big Catholic family, that’s just getting by. That’s tough to swallow sometimes, however, it is our fate. God bless you!
p.s. My son would be the one with khakis, tennis shoes, and flyaway hair.
February 13, 2009 at 11:33 am
That was funny!
I got it wrong because the picture day was staggered, not sure why, over 3 days. So they were in uniform which is not what they wanted to be in. BUT, when I would send pictures to family, the ones they are not in uniform, they would ask if they were still in Catholic School (at that time). Oh well.
February 13, 2009 at 12:06 pm
GREAT story! And while my son is just 5, he has already gone through 2 picture days (or I should say we collectively have gone through 2 of his picture days) and I must say that somewhere in the 45 minutes or so from whence he steps out of the car to the moment the camera goes “click” his hair tends to stand at 90 degree angles all across his head, no matter how pristine he looked when we shut the car doors. Are these what you call “flyaways”? And I’m sorry, but I just refuse to put “product” (and I HATE that “queer-eye” term) in little kids’ hair. Smacks of trailer-town beauty pageants if you ask me.
Matthew, from one parent to another, I have one recommendation; I don’t know if your children’s school gives them a monthly print-out of the calendar, or if they simply point you to the online calendar for the school’s website. But I would HIGHLY recommend using an online calendar such as yahoo, aol, google etc and throwing any/all school calendar dates (as well as any of your own personal ones) in there. Then you set timers such that they email you the night before (or early morning if you check your emails first thing) and gently remind you to select the shiniest rock you can find for show-and-tell/make sure your children have their permission-slips signed/inform your son his time-out is over for spitting at his sister etc.
I tell ya, I live and die by that thing and it definitely gives me the advantage of making me look well-organized, when I’m really only as good as my last thought. As another aside, our “Duh!” was the cloying “Hello????” which my 8-year-old niece brought with her when she came to live with us. Gratefully, there is no equivalent Italian catch-phrase, so that one eventually died its own death.
February 13, 2009 at 2:38 pm
This is great! The only thing missing is what you plan to do with the two weeks you have remaining in your life 🙂
February 13, 2009 at 6:11 pm
I love these stories. They are so sweet!
I’ve never missed knowing a “Picture Day” but one year, unbeknownst to me, their father instructed them not to do a fake smile for the camera. Of course, the kids took it to mean they were not to smile at all.
The pictures came back and in every portrait my kids looked like their best friend had died. Now I never tell my husband ahead of time so he won’t feel compelled to “help”.
February 13, 2009 at 8:20 pm
Thanks for a much-needed laugh!
I guess this is what I have to look forward to (my oldest is not yet 4), but at least one of my girls loves playing with her hair, purses, sunglasses, etc., so she might yet save us on days like the one you describe. (I was never that kind of girl…)
With large Catholic families, some days it’s enough that the kids are fed and “basically alive,” as a friend of mine put it! 🙂
February 13, 2009 at 8:59 pm
RENEE TOO FUNNY! My son doesn’t quite get the smiling thing either and seems to have a “deer in the headlights” look whenever there is a non candid photo being taken. My daughter, while still an infant, seems to enjoy the attention when someone takes her pictures. Although I think she thinks the camera is either a toy, accessory or something she can eventually put in her mouth.
February 13, 2009 at 9:43 pm
I love, love, love this post! You thank you for the laugh at your expense!
February 14, 2009 at 10:29 am
I think that you are the Catholic version of Bill Cosby on Fatherhood. I really wish you would collect these kinds of stories (ie. shark shoes)and write a book. They are a delight! Besides which….your love and devotion to your children is so powerful, for fathers, and the fatherless.
Thanks for sharing your life with us.
February 14, 2009 at 7:43 pm
I am I the only one that is just too cheap to buy school portraits? Sears or Penney’s has more pictures for less $$$, and I can actually verify that the child’s hair hasn’t gone BOING!!! during morning recess before taking pictures…
February 15, 2009 at 10:56 pm
Margaret,
that would mean an extra car trip to Sears or Penneys, and I would have all the children (not just the school age ones), and I would be there so they would be more likely to decide they didn’t like the photographer/lighting/day of the week and get all dramatic. They won’t pull drama in front of their friends. Nope, it’s worth it to pay for the school pics. No one ends up in tears. Including me.
February 17, 2009 at 10:35 pm
Hawkgirl definately because Wonder Woman is older than the Tuskegee airmen She’s from WWII!