In my constant search for life's true meaning, I have tried becoming more active in the PTA at Elder's school.

So, I made this year's yearbook. I procrastinated about making it until the last minute because I was afraid of the software, only to find it was a piece o' cake. I put it together in time for the publisher's deadline, and it was mostly okay... except for the fact that the SIXTH grade went away to camp this past (and every) year, as opposed to the FIFTH grade, as I had written.

Also, I rushed them to the school in time for open house, only to find the principal (and teachers) don't want them distributed until the last day of school. (That was only partially my fault; the PTA president thought it was a good idea, too.)

When I hesitantly began to tell one of the other moms that I made the 5th grade/6th grade mistake, beginning, "I think I made a mistake with the yearbooks..." She jumped in and said, "I KNOW, you distributed them too early!"

I didn't finish telling her my shame.


Additionally, when I told the company to include pictures of teachers AND staff, I thought they'd post the teachers' pictures, then another page of people like the secretary, librarian, school nurse, etc. Instead, they duplicated the teachers WITH that second group of people, so the teachers are featured twice.

Also, because the school changed yearbook and school picture companies, I didn't have the 6th graders' kindergarten pictures to add at the end, as they had in years past. Also, I eliminated the scanned-in images of handwritten notes to the 6th graders, because I thought it looked cheesy. Apparently, other parents loved them.

I don't think I'm fitting in very well. This must be why I'm not invited to Bunco.

And next year, I'm taking over the newsletter. I hope I don't continue down my road to failure.

Plus, this morning I pulled up to drop off muffins for Teacher Appreciation Week; I was met by two suspicious and irritated women who asked, "How did you just drive up here like this? You're not supposed to drive up here when the students are outside!" As I meekly held up my muffins, one of the ladies said, "Are those for Teacher Appreciation? I'll take them inside for you. What's your name, so I can say who these are from?" (I know very well she was making a note of me to put in the "troublemaker" file.) I mumbled it and got back into my car to drive Younger to preschool.

Maybe I should just stay home from now on.