Ric Rac and The Other Woman.

Dear M:

Last Friday, I met "the other woman." She's caring, but she'll never love you like I do. She'll take care of all your needs, but she won't give you hugs and kisses like I do. She'll make you feel special, but she won't tell you you're the best. You're going to adore "the other woman," but just remember, I was here first. And, I will be here last. While these other woman repeatedly enter and exit your life, just know, I will be the singular one who will remain steadfast, here for you, forever.

Don't you forget it.

Okay. Lest you think Mike's a wanderer, I'll come clean. Madan's starting Kindergarten. I didn't cry once during orientation. But, I did get a little misty-eyed when "the other woman" (his teacher) reminded us that she'll be spending more waking hours with my son than me.

Hmmm. That got me thinking. Madan would be in school for the next (hopefully) 12+ years. Sure, we'd still have summer, but it's almost unbearable to know that I'd hardly see him for the next 3/4 of a year. What the hell was I thinking sending him to school? Talk about a bad idea.

And, if that's not bad enough, "other woman" gave me a list of demands during orientation. It included hand sanitizer, anti-bacterial wipes, ziploc bags and ... ric rac. WTF? Ric rac? She hates me, I thought. She barely knows me, but it's obvious that she despises me and wants me to die. The other moms got easy-peasy requests: Q-tips, yarn, cotton balls, toothpicks, newspaper for chrissakes! What the HELL did I do to earn RIC-freakin'-RAC? Hindu karma had kicked in. Boy, I must have done something really shitty in my last life to deserve this.

After a tearful Q&A session with a friend, I spent the next day in search of ric rac. I zigged to Walmart. I zagged to The Flower Factory. I crisscrossed all over town, searching Target and Michaels for the endangered trim, only to come up empty-handed. I debated posting on Craig's List or trolling the ric rac black market. Then, I remembered. The Other Woman said I'd have to visit Jo-Ann Fabrics. But -- GASP! -- that's all the way in Solon. I was sure I could prove her wrong. After all, Walmart sells guns, food, toys and drugs! Aside from white glue sticks, what don't they have?

Ric. Freaking. Rac. OMG.

Today, I traveled all the way to Jo-Ann Fabrics and hurriedly ran through the store. Joann's is like a foreign country to me and I wasn't interested in prolonging my stay and catching a bad case of craft-itis. I accosted a sales lady.

Um, do you have RIC RAC? What the HELL'S ric rac anyway?

The saleslady was not amused. My lack of sewing prowess disgusted her. She knows I use iron-on hem tape, I thought. Crap. Two minutes later, I checked out and chucked the ric rac in my car. Then, I sped off to Chipotle, home to the burrito bowl and everything that's safe, good and yummy in this world. The ric rac is now safely stowed in Madan's backpack, ready for delivery.

I can't wait to flaunt my ric rac success in class.

To Joey's mom: Ohhhhh. Where ON EARTH did you find Q-tips? Your friggin' bathroom closet?

To Betsy's mom: Wooden sticks? Oh, how NOVEL! You must feel such a sense of accomplishment getting those from Michaels. Pray tell, did you use your Sunday supplement coupon?

To Johnny's mom: YARN? OMFG. How did you manage to wrestle it away from your pet cat, unscathed?

To Susie's mom: Hmmm...cotton balls. Now, that's a tough one. Did you go to CVS, Walgreens, Walmart, Target, Giant Eagle or Heinen's? So many choices, how ever did you decide?

To everyone, while doing my newly-perfected celebratory ric rac smack-down dance: Yeah, I got ric rac. (Collective horrified gasp from all the mothers.) I know. I know! Can you believe I had to get ric rac? Teach threw down the fabric gauntlet, but I delivered. And how! Two packs of jumbo red, baby. (Another collective gasp -- not only had I procured ric rac, but I also got RED which started with an "R!" Did I mention the ric rac was for the Kindergarten jumbo alphabet book?)

What next, teach? Tie-dye playdough? 5,000 cutouts of the letter "i"? Bring it.

I. Am. Kindergarten-ready.