Preschool Panic: Touring Edition

We're headed out for our very first preschool tour this morning.  I spent most of yesterday freaking out about not having anything cute/hip/chic enough to wear and wishing that I'd had time to get my hair done and my car washed before making an appearance at this dog and pony show.  As it is I'm going to roll up in my filthy Toyota with full-on skunk roots and a marginally clean outfit, so let's hope they're not making admissions decisions based on personal hygiene and fashion sense.  The Hubs can't stay for the whole tour what with the whole full-time job thing (really, there are people in LA who have to work for a living and are not living off of some bottomless trust fund.  It's shocking, I know) so I'm going to be representing Noah all by my lonesome for most of the morning.

I have this recurring nightmare that my "quirkiness" (read: weirdness) causes my son to either be rejected by every good school in the LA basin or, worse, that he gets in but ends up having no friends because his parents are weridos.  So here's hoping I can keep my freak flag lowered to half mast until the conclusion of the tour in order to give the Muffin Man a decent shot at a top-of-the-line pre-kindergarten education.  If I hadn't already depleted my Xanax stash I would pop one before leaving the house, but sadly I'm out of refills and my Psychotherapist wants me to come in for a session before hooking me up (seriously, Dr. Goldberg, I'm just as anxious as I was two months ago.  Now can you please refill my damn scrip?!).  The anxiety is killing me, people, and we have seven more schools to tour!  Just imagine what a wreck I'm going to be before our family interview.  Remind me to make sure Dr. Goldberg hooks me up before that happens, or Noah may not get accepted anywhere based on the fact that his Mother is literally pulling out her own hair.

Well, here goes nothing.  I promise to report back.