Mom/Volunteer of the Year Award

Some months ago I signed up to volunteer in my youngest daughter's kindergarten classroom for their pajama party, which was today. I dutifully put the date on my calendar, though I didn't know the exact time.

It all went downhill from there.

First, the room rep's emails to me about the plans kept going into my spam server, so the first actual email I received from her said something like "Are you there? Are you doing this or what because I've got to find a replacement if you're not." (Only she was more polite.) I then found her initial emails in my spam filter. (Sorry for the minor heart attack, Laura.)

My directions were to show up at 10:45 with popcorn and juice boxes in hand, but with explicit instructions about the popcorn: store bought only, and if I brought a big bag that needed to be opened and divvied into popcorn bags for the kids, I needed to open it in front of staff because food that was already opened was not allowed in the school. With food safety and allergy concerns, I get it and can respect it.

I got two big bags of pre-popped popcorn, a bunch of red lunch bags (to be festive) and enough juice boxes for all. I got there early and watched the class enjoy the obstacle course in the gym for a while before getting the party started. But I couldn't prepare the individual popcorn bags yet because, well, I was supposed to open the bag in the presence of a staff member, and no one was in the classroom.


Marissa's class on the obstacle course, aka "The Jungle."

Once the class got back into the room, I opened the bag and began filling the lunch bags with popcorn.

It became evident within filling four lunch bags that I had not bought enough popcorn.

Not even close.

I ended up dumping out the four bags I had already filled and had to measure each bag about one-third full to have enough popcorn for every child.

I am so lame.

The first child who was handed a bag looked inside and said, "Mine's not full."

I said, "Yes it is," and moved on.

Oh well, I thought, at least every child has equal amounts, they'll never know how little popcorn they actually got.

"Okay everyone," says the teacher, "Let's line up to go to across the hall to watch the movie."

Because, you know, it's cool to watch movies with your friends who have brimming full bags of popcorn because the other teacher's parent volumteer brought FIVE bags of popcorn for everyone. They even had extra in the back of the room for the teachers and volunteers if they wanted.

I am incredibly lame. I can't even do this right, and it's so easy.

Some day my daughter's teacher is going to announce to the class that Marissa's mom is coming to the classroom to volunteer, and they will all groan. "Ohhh, not Marissa's mom! She's so cheap. She never brings enough stuff."

Brown bags: spilling over with popcorn. Red bags: not so much.

With this handful Marissa ate the majority of the popcorn in her bag.

So now I know: it takes about 5 bags of store-bought popcorn to feed a class of 26 kids. Good to know, in case I'm ever asked to do this again. But I suspect I won't be.