Now that more than a week has passed, the guilt and shame has eased enough that I can tell you all how I am the worst mom ever.
On the Thursday before Halloween, David's preschool class had a little celebration. Parents were instructed to
- Send their children to school with 17 special Halloween treats to share with the class.
- Arrive 20 minutes before the end of class time to participate in a celebration, which was to include the performance of some Halloween finger plays.
I failed on both counts.
I am always 5 minutes late, and apparently not even the love I feel for my children is enough to break this habit. Thus, I arrived five minutes after the appointed time. But I wasn't overly concerned because I assumed the first 10 minutes would be chaos. Instead I walked into a room packed with parents and grandparents, all armed with camcorders pointed at a circle of adorable, costumed preschoolers singing their last song. I even missed that one song because I was digging around in my bag for a camera. That was it. Five minutes of singing songs. It was over. That's when I realized the gravity of my sin: I had missed David's first school performance ever! (And from the teacher's reaction to my tardiness, David had definitely been concerned about my absence.) I didn't know it was only going to last five minutes! I didn't know it was going to be the kind of thing to which you bring your camcorder! I didn't know it was something I would never in a million years want to miss! Needless to say, I felt pretty crummy.
I felt even worse when I looked in David's treat bag. It was filled with huge Halloween cookies, fancy homemade treats, and cute cellophane bags stuffed with assorted goodies. I was shocked. I had sent David with 17 "fun-size" bags of M&Ms. So, while the other children were passing out their gloriously decorated pumpkin cookies, David's like "Here, have this microscopic bag with 4 M&Ms in it." Not that David cared, but I sure felt like a loser mom.
So there you have it. I missed my son's first ever holiday school program. And I seriously underperformed with the whole "special treat" thing. Okay, so I know this doesn't make me the worst mom ever. But it sure feels like it.
And thus begins the list of reasons why David is going to need therapy. Or rather, why I am going to need therapy.
(I did eventually find the camera in my bag.)
