She’s a nervous laugher, the principal of Reichen and Latham’s preschool, at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t feel as bad.  I mean, I’m a nervous laugher.  So, I get it. 

In the beginning of our relationship, it irritated David so much that I giggled every time he tried to tell me something that made me uncomfortable, but over the years he’s come to accept it.

“I realize you’re nervous,” he says now, calmly, more to himself than to me, “and that’s why you’re laughing.” 

I know though that  my nervous laughter still somewhat bothers him even after all these years, just like he knows his habit of  leaving hangers on every doorknob in our house still somewhat bothers me.  But these are the the little things we let slide in our marriage because they’ll bury us if we don’t. 

But I’ve never really had to get used to someone else laughing nervously.  And I’ve got to admit, it’s awkward.

“Tasha,” the principal, Ms. Lisa, says through a stream of high pitched giggles, “you weren’t supposed to come to orientation tonight.  This meeting is for the parents of Kids Day Out,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms. Lisa says though a stifled snicker, “you made it to the right meeting tonight!  Good for you,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms.  Lisa chortles, “this is the time you’re supposed to meet with the Reichen and Latham’s enrichment teacher, did you forget?” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms. Lisa grins while biting her cheeks, “you only turned in Reichen’s health form.  I also need Latham’s,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

Every day, it’s another day and another giggle from Ms. Lisa.  It is.

I’m not sure what it is, but I am having the worst time getting into the swing of school.  But seriously, with two kids in preschool, it’s always something.

Always.

Reichen has to wear Red on Thursday.  Latham has to wear Blue on Monday.  Bring a homemade, healthy snack with a gallon of water for Latham a week from Wednesday.  Reichen’s ‘Family Bear’ homework that he has to cut out, glue pictures to, cover in glitter, and apply googly eyes on is due Friday.  Latham has a half of day Monday.  Reichen has classroom orientation Tuesday for one hour.  And don’t forget that once a month, I have to deliver a secret pal gift for Latham’s teacher.

It’s no wonder, in my humble defense, that I forgot to turn in Latham’s health form or that I showed up on the wrong night for parent orientation. 

“Write it down in your calendar,” my mom and David instruct when it comes to all this school stuff.

“I do,” I defend.  “I do.”

I’m just not used to it, I guess.  Just like I’m not used to someone else nervously laughing while trying to tell me something uncomfortable. 

Ms. Lisa has definitely given me a whole new respect for what David has gone through for all these years, that’s for sure.

But don’t tell him I said that.