Pre-school .. eeny, meeny, miny, moe …

A few weeks back I lamented the fact that the pre-school I had in mind for Isabelle had rejected her and told me that they do not have space for her.

This pre-school is in the “oh my heavens” it’s a freaking fabulous pre-school category of play schools.

I have easily seen about thirty to sixty in my glorious years of being a parent to a pre-schooler.

I have seen some good ones and some crap ones. I seldom get to see great ones.  I often get to see ones that make me recoil, somewhat violently!

But this one was so great, I swooned.  I clapped my hands together like a seal waiting for a fish.  I filled in the application faster than they could say “fax it right over.”

I had seen it last year.  I filled in the application form last year. I faxed it last year.

I called immediately to ensure the principal had received it.

I called the next day just to check she had taken it from the fax machine and placed it on the top of her pile of children to admit to this school.

I then spent much of my airtime phoning the principal, L,  to remind her that I had filled in an application form, and that I was really keen.  I was available to drop Isabelle off any day, any time, how about now?

I called her in the morning, the afternoon and sometimes in the early evening.

I could not sms me or email her as she refused to give me either of these numbers.  Strange that.

The principal suggested I phone around June/July this year to see if there might be a spot for January 2012.

When other moms bemoaned the fact that they were struggling with pre-school, I put a look of disdain on my face.  I sniffed and indicated that I did not struggle with this sort of thing – as Isabelle was going to the best pre-school in the universe. It was all because I had done my homework and enrolled her early.

A tad on the smug self-righteous side, I am afraid.

June came and went. July came and went, and my harassment of the principal did not stop.  I did not have a letter of acceptance, and I was getting desperate.

Short story.  There was no place for Isabelle.  I was mortified.  I was horrified.  I felt rejected.  I started to get angry.  I started to get anxious that if I did not find her a school who could potty train her, she might be on nappies until grade 8!

Lisa-Marie came to my rescue and told me about another school, not close to home, but close to work.

I went to take a look. Nice school.  Not as great as my initial choice, but pretty good and I was relieved.

This time I was (more) aggressive with my application.  Isabelle needs to be at a place that can get her to say Mommy and colour-in without her tongue sticking out.

Accepted, tick — relief ……

<< I did however feel very disappointed that I did not get into the first school. I even drove past the school two more times and looked out the window in a longing fashion.  Can you say stalker?>>

This morning, L, the principal called me from the ‘first” school.  Unfortunately a mom is moving and taking her child out of the school << Can you say Yippee for Skippy?>>

Though L has several boys on her waiting list, she would like a girl to replace the child leaving – to balance out the numbers.  Does Isabelle want to join the school?

I must confess that I think I started to whimper on the phone.  Then I gushed, then I got a bit giddy.

It was so intoxicating to be wanted by my favourite pre-school.  Of course I have totally blown in out of proportion, because now they were pursuing me!!

I said “yes, yes, oh lordy, yes!” and then I think I sniffed back a tear.  I really did say a batch of inappropriate things to the principal expressing my happiness and excitement – I might have stepped over the imaginary boundary between prospective-parent-and-prospective-principal.

L said she would send me all the information via post and Isabelle was welcome to join them in January 2012.

<< I am really so excited I could fart!  Like actual flatulance.  I know I yelped and squealed.>>

That does mean I need to phone the other school and cancel with them – which makes me feel a bit guilty, as I made such a fuss to get in.

But I will wait until I get my little letter in the post – I have a sneaky suspicion that I might need to get a second job at McDonalds to pay the monthly fee at this new school.

Of course then I start thinking that I have made a mistake and I should leave Isabelle in the school who kindly accepted her enrolment when I was at my most desperate … but then I give myself a firm talking to, and a little slap in the face – and go and make some tea.