Call off the Hounds

Okay. Uncle. I give. I give. I will write something. No, I don't feel like it. I'd much rather be in bed right now, curled up with an ice pack on my thumb. I burned my poor little thumb tonight -- several times. It's blistered, angry red, and throbbing.

How, one might ask, did I burn my thumb so badly, not once but several times? Decorating a roll of toilet paper, of course.

You see, I'm the Duck Leader. Yes, quack quack Duck. Not a typo. Reilly Kate's preschool class is nicknamed the Ducks. Don't ask me why because I haven't a clue. The four year olds are the Dolphins which makes sense here in Hawaii. Dolphins. I get it. But ducks? No. We don't have ducks here. Well, actually we do have ducks, but they're not really ducks. They are Nene birds (say "nay nay"). So I could see being the Nene Leader, but I'm not. I'm the Duck leader. Yep. Quacky. Quit your laughing.

It's not like I volunteered for the position. Yes, technically I volunteered... but not voluntarily. Remember back when I complained about not wanting to get RK vaccinated against the chicken pox? But I wound up having to do it anyway? Well, I caused such a stir in the preschool with the whole issue that I felt really guilty. They were holding elections for class leader and nobody had yet tossed in their name. The president of the school board stood there practically begging for volunteers.

"Class leaders are responsible for keeping the lines of communication open between the teacher and the parents. Emails, phone calls, reminders... that kind of thing," she claimed, cheerfully. "Can we get anyone to put their name on the ballot? We must have a Duck leader," the president informed us.

She kept this up for several minutes until I saw her look straight at me and say, "Oh, good. Heather. Thank you."

I was shocked and a little perturbed that she would stick me with the job until I realized that my arm was raised, hand waiving in the air like a kid with a full bladder during math class. Victimized by my guilt ridden soul controlling my limbs again.

Proudly, I was elected unanimously.

A few days later, the lies were exposed. There was a lot more to this job than simply making phone calls. During the first few weeks of class, I discovered that I am in charge of scheduling parent helpers and yard work, keeping the calendars, putting stuff up on the bulletin boards, and a whole host of other crap that just keeps bubbling to the surface. If I were to type up all the damn stuff I'm responsible for I'd wear out my sore thumb and render it unable to finish this post. And I'd never hear the end of it from you all. Suffice it to say, each week something more gets added to the plate of the Duck Leader. The Almighty, All Powerful, All Quacked Out Duck Leader.

Ahhhh... but that still didn't explain the roll of toilet paper, did it? Allow me to cut to that. The school's biggest fundraiser every year is a Silent Auction. I already donated a few framed cutesy sayings (The Military Wife's prayer is one) that I made on the computer. I thought I was done. But no. No rest for this Duck Leader. I was informed last week that I am responsible for collecting donations for and then creating a theme basket to be auctioned off at the NOT So Silent Auction (they are handing out paddles, whatever that means). Our theme? Christmas.

Huh? Why Christmas? When I say “duck” do you think “Christmas?” I know I don’t. I could have done a bath basket (rubber ducks) or a Disney basket (Donald) or a Chinese basket (Peking). But no. We are the Ducks and our basket is Christmas. The Dolphins get to do a games basket. Lucky them since Toys R Us is having their buy one get one free sale on all board games. Lucky bitches… er… fishes.

Anyway, I went shopping this weekend looking for Christmas stuff and unless I want to buy a 7 foot, prelit, plastic Norfolk pine and try stuffing that into a basket, I am out of luck. At least until after Halloween. So I brilliantly thought I would make some things for the basket.

Years ago, while in the third grade, I bought a decorated roll of toilet paper at a craft fair for my mom for Christmas. It had ribbon and a bow and this saying taped to it (which has stuck with me all these years – mind like a steel trap, I tell you): The powder room is often slighted when wreaths are hung and candles light. So hang this roll upon the door to mark the place and add décor.”

I thought this would be a simple, cheap, and cute addition to the basket. I cracked out my crafting supplies (yes, I have a rubber bin filled with the shit, I just don’t crack it out too often), warmed up the hot glue gun and proceeded to burn the unholy hell out of my thumb. Decorating a roll of toilet paper.

And that's how it happened. Just like that. Now, I bid you all a Happy Monday for I must go. My thumb is throbbing from all this typing and it is pouring rain (yes, I know, it never rains in Ewa) with thunder and lightening. Time to turn this baby off.

So, till next time, don’t decorate the toilet paper and stay away from hot glue.