You Want Me To Make a What?

So  last week Oldest started at her new Super Smart People School. Yeah, that’s what I’m calling it because that’s what it is. Anyway, after she trundled off last Monday with her four bags of school supplies she came back that  night with a bag stuffed to the brim with more stuff. Different stuff. Stuff that required me to start digging out insurance cards and looking up the numbers for doctors and all that other good stuff. But there, at the very bottom was two pages stapled together and unlike the other papers these were a lovely shade of periwinkle blue. And there at the bottom I spotted a permission slip. Crap, could they be going on a field trip already?

Oh if only it were a field trip. Somewhere educational like a  museum or a dairy farm or I don’t know where. No these lovely periwinkle blue pages were for the upcoming class presentation where they will show off all the things they’ve learned about Ancient Rome and perform a play about Julius Cesear.

I look at Oldest and think to myself “really?” But there she is, large eyes shining at the idea of being in a play and before I know it I’ve signed the permission slip and wrote a check for $10 to take part in the pre-show pizza dinner to benefit the technology department. We don’t even eat pizza in my house because Hubby is a celiac and youngest just curls his nose up at it. Which means after said play I’m going to have to take them out for dinner anyway so they can all get something to eat while I choke down pizza from school.

I make my peace with this because it’s what you do when you have kids and schools. Right? Until the next day when another form comes home—this one lavender. And I feel my eyelid begin to twitch because I’m learning that if it’s on pastel paper it’s going to involve something. The lavender paper said – Costumes for Play: How to Make Your Super Smart Genius Child a Toga (Because even if they are doing Calculus we don’t trust them with a sewing machine).

Great. Because if school plays, choking down pizza for a good cause and otherwise socializing with people I’ve never met before weren’t bad enough. Now we’re going to show off my nonexistent crafting/sewing skills. And let me repeat this most important part – to people I’ve never met before. Ever. Not even the teacher.

I am so hosed. That’s all there is to say about it. I. Am. Hosed. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I have to go back to sewing and figure out how the Hell to make a shoulder pleat.

16 thoughts on “You Want Me To Make a What?

    • We’re new here otherwise I would have outsourced. Dear God let me find some crafty friends here.

  1. I went to Catholic school and we had entire semesters of what was called “Socially Useful Productive Work” – kid you not. My mother completed all my sewing projects for the big end of the year exhibition day because she couldn’t bear for me not to have things on display (her issue not mine – LOL). She never said a word but I wonder what she THOUGHT… :D

    • Didn’t have that. I took Machine shop instead of Home Ec in Junior High and then took Computers instead of Home Ec in HS. Completely missed the cooking, cleaning, sewing and child care class boat.

  2. Even tho I was raised a crafty girl, there are some things I can’t do. Can’t knit, for example. However, I found the thing that saved me on a lot of occasions–the glue gun.

    Google tuck pleat, get thee a gun, fold, pin, and glue away.

    • Hmm I never thought about that. The thing is will Ibe able to use the sheet again if it’s got glue in it?

    • Staples might work. At least until she’s got to try and get out of it. Oh well, i’ll just staple her in and let her get herself out of it. She’s supposed to be smart after all.

  3. You never said what type of toga you needed. (Just be glad it’s not a kilt.) Is it the kind you throw one end over the shoulder? Or the one that looks like a tunic? If you really don’t sew, I’d use the glue gun. But you can pin in the pleat, one pin at each end, then just run a line of stitching over the pins and that should hold the pleat. If you use the same color as the toga, it may not even show.

    • Over the shoulder but for the girls they want them in some sort of double toga dress thing that looks like those goddess gowns from the oscars a few years ago. If the staples don’t work we’re going to glue her in becuase I’m sick of trying to sew.

  4. I so sympathize with you! I tried my best when my boys were young, but my efforts were at best, completely lame! So glad my having kids in school days are long gone.

  5. This is hilarious, Patricia, particularly because it is about you and not me! ;) Enjoy the rubber pizza! (By the way, is there a reason that my password to post this comment was lwussYELnono? There is a joke in there, yet it may not be appropriate for all audiences!) :)

  6. Great post, Patricia. Funny and witty! I can laugh, I’m over that hump now with my kids. As for the toga, search for costume stores around, or even online. That’s what I’d do. My sewing machine is broken and it’s gonna stay that way ;-) )

  7. WTH? Togas don’t have any kind of pleats…and don’t require any sewing. That was THE POINT. Barbarians (like the Persians and Gauls) wore sewn clothes; nice, civilized Romans wore draped garments held together with brooches made of precious metals and gemstones.

    And furthermore, the toga was a male garment. Your daughter shouldn’t even be considering the ridiculous thing when she could have a nice palla over a stola held together with fibulae (Roman safety pins). I’m very disappointed in this school.

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