Yesterday I blogged about being such a big girl in our new grown-up, real-job world. One of the responsibilities of living in the real world is having a daughter go to preschool for the first time. That's when you know you've entered grown-up-dom: when your kids are doing things that you remember doing yourself.
The in-home teacher visit was yesterday. I'd had a pretty bad night of sleep. I was woken up during the night once by Miriam, once by Jeremy, and twice by Magdalena. Still, I was determined to put on a classy, responsible show for the preschool teachers so they would know that I was fully capable of being a grown-up and sending my daughter to their school.
They came over, we chatted, Miriam showed them her room and some favorite books and toys, and then I dazzled them by asking a few thoughtful questions that I'd researched ahead of time. Everything went great. After they left, I smugly congratulated myself on being such a with-it parent.
Then I looked down and realized that I had put on my shirt inside-out and had been wearing it that way during the whole visit.
So much for being a grown-up.