All this week, the kids are on minimum day scheduling because of parent-teacher conferences. While the joy of a unified drop-off and pick-up time is great, the noon pickup is crazy-chaotic.

Yesterday, I walked the kids to school, walked home, dropped the youngest off at my friend's house for an hour so I could return to the school and work in my son's class, picked up my youngest, did a quick run to the bank, and then found myself with exactly twenty minutes to kill before I returned to the school to fetch the wee monsters.

Y'all know what is coming next. I hit the 'Bucks for a PSL. Aw yeah.

I am enjoying working in my son's class, despite my complaining about it. The kids are hilarious, and never fail to say something that has me giggling the rest of the day. I usually do minimal makeup, but yesterday I put on the full war-paint. When I sat down with my little group yesterday, one of the little boys said "Woo-woo! Fancy!" and one of the little girls said "I loooooove your lipstick stuff!" With that kind of reception, I should make more of an effort, no?

At one point, after we had finished our small group work, the kids were wiggling and squirming all over the place. The teacher calmly turned on a CD and I watched as she serenely led the kids in an extended version of "The Chicken Dance." Watching twenty four- and five-year-olds concentrate fiercely on the proper time to flap and wiggle their butts was a treat.

So anyway, had the PSL, picked up the kids and returned home for some relaxing before the afternoon festivities. What festivities, you ask? Oh, didn't I mention? I had two conferences to attend. And I was nervous, because my son struggled in preschool a bit, and my daughter has been getting in trouble frequently (ie, name on board, benching) and I was afraid of what I was going to hear.

My husband got home shortly before we needed to leave. When he spotted my empty PSL cup in the trash, he clutched his chest and cried "You! You, you, you had one already without me! I've been betrayed!" (Heh, we are so melodramatic!)

Since we had a break of a half hour between conferences, we had planned a visit to ye olde crack-den to score a couple of grandes. I promised that we could still go, and that I would just not get anything. (Yeah. Right.)

We dropped the kids off at my friend's house (again, same friend, who is a saint. S-A-I-N-T.) and headed into the conference for my son. No surprises there. He's a perfectionist, we were told. My husband was all puffed up about that. That's his son, you know. Not that perfectionism means 'logical' or 'orderly' - it tends to manifest in whatever my son's ideas view of 'perfect' is. I'm just hoping he doesn't end up like Jack Nicholson's character in 'As Good As It Gets.'

In other news, he's a good student, cheerful and plays well. His Elmer Fudd speech seems to be self-resolving. No surprises, other than his apparent good grasp on the lack of need for tantrums in kindergarten. Woooo!

After this cheery little chat, we headed to get our coffee. Well, the husband's coffee. I wasn't going to get any, because two PSLs in one afternoon would make Jenny a jittery fool. Damn the signage that revealed the existence of a Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino! I was all, "Ooh! I haven't had that before!" Besides, cold coffee is a completely different thing than warm coffee, so it doesn't count as overindulgence. You heard it here first. We each had one of those. My husband swilled his down. I hit an overload point and offered the rest of mine to the hubster, who clutched his stomach and announced that he was "full of Frap."

Full of Frap! Ha! Hee! Hoo! Hmm.

Next up was our daughter's conference, and I have to say, I was very uneasy. I had it built up in my mind that she had become a 'target' of the teacher, and that she was 'marked' as a behavioral problem. So, I was already twitchy. Then, add to that the fact that I was super-caffinated, and it was a good thing my husband was there to provide intelligent input and a serious attitude.

With her first words, complimenting my daughter's strengths and abilities, I settled down a bit. She did mention the discipline issues (basically, my kid has good days and bad, the bad being days where she requires a special invitation to listen or do her work, and is very off in la-la land.) Over all, it is the same stuff we struggle with at home, and the teacher didn't characterize her as a problem or defiant.

At our request, she will mention even small infractions to us, so that we can help our daughter get on track with her focus. It is funny, because just a few weeks ago, I had discussion with another mom at the playground about focusing. Her daughter was too busy 'helping' other kids that she wasn't finishing her assignments. Apparently, they spent a lot of time talking about it, and every day on the way to school, her dad had her talk about how she was going to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.

The mom was a little concerned that all this focused energy on focusing would result in her daughter needing therapy later in life. Hah. Later, when the teacher complimented her progress and asked what the parents were doing to motivate her, her mom deadpanned a joking comment about digging ditches. Heh.

Anyway, we got through it, and I feel relieved to know that my kids may be unique, quirky little monkeys, but they are not a new species altogether, and certainly within the range of normal for monkeys.

We picked up the kids from my friend the saint's house, and headed home. I told my son that his teacher said he was a good boy. "The best boy in the whole world?" he shouted from the backseat. "And, she said that you get to be the helper again tomorrow!" Oh, the raptureous noises coming from the bench seat in the back! It was orgasmic.

We also discussed the good and bad with my daughter, and she agreed that she could try a little harder, pay closer attention, and work without having to be cajoled into it. She was excited to hear that we got to see her daily journal. Every day, they draw a picture and then write a sentence about it. My girl's book is full of animals. Lions. Dogs. Cats. Horses. Bunnies. A random mermaid, followed by a poodle. She asked me, "Didja see the big weiner on the back cover?"

"Uh, no..."

"Yeah, it's a big weiner, but with a human face!"

"A, uh, weiner, you say?"

"You know, one of those long skinny dogs?"

"Oh, a dachshund?"

At home we got the kids settled and then I glanced in the mirror. I just went throught two parent conferences wearing a Harry Potter shirt that reads "I solemly swear I am up to no good." Maybe I should have worn a different shirt. But hey, I had my full face on, so maybe that made up for it.