Restraint

Did you notice how I'm not saying anything about the State of Our Dis-Union? Did you notice? (Aside to A.D.: he saw his shadow; he just wasn't sure what it was)

I have other things to obsess about today, for tonight is the second Latino Outreach Night at R & V's future school. I have catering to oversee! On-site babysitting to organize (20 or 30 kids of varying ages)! Flowers to purchase! Drinks to ice! Last-minute phone calls to make!

At the request of the parents (I wish I could actually speak Spanish; I could probably be more effective at this), I found an excellent group to come talk to them—en Español, natch—about healthcare issues, with an emphasis on child psychology. At our first night, one mother said her daughter comes home from school crying because nobody will be her friend. When her mom asked why nobody wanted to be her friend, the child said it's because she has the wrong clothes. This little girl is in kindergarten. (And I wondered: when did kindergarten become high school?) The mother then went on to say that she has no idea how to help her daughter. This one comment unleashed a torrent of questions from the rest of the parents. They asked about self-esteem issues and peer pressure and discipline and health insurance and high school, college, citizenship. These are the people, mind you, who had been ridiculously, idiotically, maddeningly labeled by certain people as parents who don't care about their children.

I have never felt so useful as when I helped to prove those certain people very, very, very wrong.

And, um, I'm also still obsessing over my lack of snow headgear. I guess I'm gonna have to go with my Jollibee baseball cap...