Tuesday, December 9, 2008

The Parking Lot

My blood is boiling in a sea of rage. And all I did is something that millions of parents did, and will do for years to come. I dropped my 7 year old off at her elementary school. I dealt with the Parking Lot Freaks. I came out of it alive, and so did she so it was a red letter day.

My daughter's elementary is called a "school of choice" (that's a whole 'nother blog entry). Kids from other communities get to come to our school while their parents pay cheaper taxes and not send them to the crap school in the city they chose to live in. I get to pay high taxes and deal with it. Sounds very Bush administration, doesn't it? When you add those School of Choice Parents to the Parents With No Choices and blend thoroughly with a too-small parking lot it yields the Perfect Storm.

Don't park in the fire lane. Basic request? Against the law? Certainly. But hey, why not do it anyway and just act like you don't know. Don't double park in the bus apron, so children don't get hit by cars. They ignore this too, which only proves the "I love my Honor Student" sticker on your car came from a child who had a different, smarter set of parents.

Every month the brightly colored memo will get sent home reminding "the Lessenger Family" that we all need to work together to keep our children safe. This usually follows an event such as someone getting hit by a car, hand to hand combat by moms who wear Tweety Bird sweatshirts, or most recently, a pedestrian getting hit on his bike as he tried to continue traveling on the sidewalk. The one way traffic is also an apparent nusiance to many, as they have the nerve to flip me off when I refuse to let them out when they are going the wrong way. Yeah, that's me, the angry white woman in the egg shaped car.

My solution so far has been a wimpy, pathetic one. Throw some money at the problem. I send my daughter to hot breakfast more days than I ever want to simply to avoid the parking lot. Most days it is worth a paltry $1.25 to keep my blood pressure within high normal range. But this morning, in the rain, I succumbed to calling people names I haven't used in at least 3 days since I last worked. Why does this happen, day after day? Why is the principal not out there in her 4 inch heels and sprayed coiffed hair making people listen? Who is going to get killed before they figure it out? Who will clean up when my head finally explodes off my spinal cord from dealing with these morons?

I don't care for my Lessenger Family. They are the cousins that I choose to deny having. The ones in the Metallica shirts at the family wedding.

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