June – I know we’re only two days into you, but you’re making quite a remarkable impression. After April and May practically sucked out our souls, here we are less than 48 hours into you, and things are starting to look up. Oh sure, my ankles are unrecognizable, and today I have to unexpectedly work late, but it still can’t shake the feeling that I already like the looks of you.
It started yesterday, when I successfully got off of the phone with Comcast with a monthly bill that will now be $70 lower. And no, that’s not a promotional rate. After my conversation with them (which consisted mostly of dropping our home phone number and all of the porn channels), I called our number one daycare center (very nearby, reasonably priced, priority given to kids of our employer), of which we are on their wait-list for when Vegas turns 12, to update our records with them so that when they call us in 2022, they have the right number. After some digging around, the director found our wait-list form. Seriously – why is there always digging? I told her I knew about our wait-list position (hoping to avoid the “I’m sorry…” conversation), but mostly wanted to update our phone number. “Wait, you submitted this in October?” “Yes,” I say, waiting for another soul-crushing moment. “Well, I made some calls last week, and need to update the list. I actually have a spot to offer you today, if you’re still interested?”
Still interested? Does SHE know what Soon Cram is?
Yes. Yes, yes, and yes.
My wife and I went over this morning to take a tour and meet with the director, who gave us applications and handouts, with not one referencing soon cram. We saw the infant room, fully stocked with seven crawling and walking kiddos and two adults being crawled/walked over. I didn’t cry, but I came close. And I had my wife with me as my witness, to remember to ask the questions, and be another set of ears to confirm our spot. I may have some daycare-induced PTSD, as it still hasn’t completely sunken in that Vegas has a permanent day-home – somewhere close, clean, and where the director, although super nice and unscathed by our two-ladiesness, didn’t want to take us out drinking until 5am at the gay bar. And that’s OK.
On an unrelated note, Vegas loves Snow Patrol. Dance, tiny dancer, dance.
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you dear