I don’t know if I’m going to survive my child’s preschool experience. Everything about it seems hell bent on making me feel stupid. Now, I admit, sometimes I can be dense. You know, when I was first looking into adoption, I called an agency and was prepared to leave a message because no one ever answers their phone. So I was kind of unprepared when someone actually did – on the first ring. This was how the conversation went:

 Me: Hi, I’m interested in adopting a baby.

Random Adoption Woman: What kind of adoption?

Me: (after a long pause) You know, the kind where you get the baby at the end?

Woman: (obviously terrified at the possibility of me actually becoming a parent) I meant, Domestic or Foreign?

Me: Oh – domestic.

Woman: Race?

Me: (hesitantly) Me…or the baby?

(I almost hung up at this point and figured I’d just call back but you know I’d get the same person and you know they’d recognize the caller ID)

Woman: (completely exasperated by this point) Let’s start with you.

Me: White

 Woman: And the baby?

Me: (I almost said, well, what’ve you got but I stopped myself) Um, we’re pretty open.

Yeah, okay, so keep that in mind. So this preschool thing. I get this six page list of orientation stuff. And already my husband’s like, “we have to sit for more than an hour at parent orientation? Can you tell them that after like half an hour, I’m pretty much not going to remember anything they say?”

 Me: OMG – we have to bring snack!

 Husband: It’s like a bad episode of Everybody Loves Raymond – remember how their unapproved snack turned out?

Me: I don’t know if I want my child eating some random snack.

 Husband: We’re not going to have to make friends, are we?

 Me: I don’t think we’re cut out for this. We have to transition him for two weeks. I have to sit in an auditorium with other parents for three hours for the first three times.

(Granted, I guarantee I’d be doing this anyway, but in my car where no one would know. In the parking lot. And I live literally 4 blocks from the school, if that…)

Okay, so then the newsletter gives directions on what to bring for your child on the first day. It says: bring an entire fresh change of clothes for your child (got that part) in a ziplock.

In. A. Ziplock. Now look, I work from home in my pjs so it’s kind of like I’m out of touch with the outside world, love having things delivered and hate shopping with a passion. So I thought, maybe they now make special ziplock clothing baggies? Because how can I fit an outfit in a ziplock? Even a freezer one. I mean, they’re not big clothes, but I’m picturing myself folding them all up like a square and then not being able to close the bag and then…

I won’t even begin to go into directions for the drop-off line.