Women - honestly

Somehow, not sure how but somehow, I ended up on the preschool auction committee this year.  I have to admit, our preschool is one of two in the area that give scholarships/financial aid to families in need and that is pretty cool.  And this is funded by the auction committee.  But somehow this year it is turning into drama fest.

Last year's auction chair and this year's auction chair do not get along.

Lovely.

Neither one of them is doing the best job following up on stuff.

And so somehow we dropped the ball on the class art projects.  The class art projects were started way back when as a cute and sentimental thing and have turned into a ridiculous expenditure of time, talent and sometimes money and they maybe fetch $100.00 at auction.  There are several parents of preschoolers who are artists who get recruited to paint on something and then finger prints or hand prints are added to give the parent an over priced sentimental item that their kid "made."  I'm much more into giving the class a tube of paint each and letting them go "Jackson Pollack" on a table than having an adult paint it and "allow" the kids to put a finger print or two on it.  Just too cheesy for me but whatever.

Apparently last year the auction chair got the artists together for drinks and they brainstormed ideas and decided as a group who was doing what.  This year we just handed out assignments. 

I was told today - that our artists are feeling taken for granted.

I need to put my day into perspective.

This morning I got up at 5 and took the dog for a run.  I got the boys up at 7 Am for breakfast and my 10 yr old daughter told me she didn't feel well.  Took her temperature, 100.4.  yeah, go back to bed kid.  Got the three year old up fed and dressed and the 23 month old.  Boys on bus at 8 am, in car at 8:30 Am.  Three year old to preschool at 9 AM.  Got to "Mother's day out" at 9:15 with 23 month old.  It is my day to stay and be snack mom.  At around 10 Am one of the kids starts screaming.  screaming.  Something is very wrong.  She is hysterical.  The teachers try to carry, comfort and appease this child.  nada.  FINALLY they call her mother.  Mother arrives around 11:30.  I wanted to scream "where the HELL have you been???"  Finish up at Mother's day out at 12 and return to preschool to collect my 3 year old.  We have a picnic lunch on the play ground until 1 PM when the afternoon class arrives.  We troop inside with the after noon class and I set up the class craft project for Mrs. O's class.  I spend an hour painting on kid's hands and getting their hand prints on a 36" square to be used in the class quilt.  During this time I am told that our artists are feeling neglected.  I want to scream.

I do not have time or patience for prima donnas.  Seriously.  I do not.