So my sister Gwenn and I often joke about our "bad mommy moments", in which we tell each other to "pass over the 'Mother of the Year' award". I had one this week, but I would like to point out that it was ENTIRELY not my fault, and I should, in fact, get an actual Mother of the Year award for pulling through as I did. (What's that you say? You say that the trophy already belongs to Sarah Palin? That I'd need to revitalize a completely corrupt state government whilst managing my five children gracefully? Well, in that case, I concede. I heart Sarah Palin.)
Anyway, due to another "MOTY" moment last winter, I forgot to fill out an application for Abbie to attend the pre-school her siblings had attended until the last minute. Of course, at that point, they were full, even though they give first priority to siblings and members of their church. I resigned myself to teaching her at home with the other kids (which would have been fine, I'm sure). However, after the school had their parent orientation in mid-August, it became apparent that there were spots opened up, and Ms. Shon offered us a spot for Abbie. I sent Katie around the corner to pick up the packet of papers I needed, glanced through them, and set them aside. One thing I DID notice was that on the top of the contract, it said, "School starts September 3, 2008." Great. September 3, 2008, is a Wednesday, and Abbie only goes Monday and Tuesday, so I figured she'd be starting a week after Labor Day, on Monday the 8th.
Guess again! Evidently, the September THIRD thing was a typo, meant to be September SECOND. It was caught by a parent in the meeting, addressed and promptly forgotten about by Ms. Shon. (Who I adore; don't get me wrong. She just forgot to tell me.) So I'd only gotten about half of the supplies on Abbie's list and NOT ironed the sweet little dress I wanted her to wear on the first day, along with cutie little side-by-side French braids. I just HAPPENED to be out on the porch asking Jon something about 8:15 Tuesday morning when I saw my friend DeAnn drive by, headed toward the pre-school. I thought, "That's odd; I wonder why she's going there TODAY?" (This thought was, of course, accompanied by a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'd managed to screw this up.) I immediately called her on her cell, and said, "Pre-school starts NEXT week, right?" She said, "No, it's today!" I muttered an expletive that I won't write here, and ran in the house, digging through the pile of papers that was sitting, inexplicably, on top of my dryer. (I say "inexplicably" because it's completely ridiculous that that's where most papers end up in my house.) I found the paper in question, saw the bold and black type that proclaimed, "School starts SEPTEMBER THIRD" and called her back, wailing, "I've got the paper RIGHT HERE! IT SAYS TOMORROW AND THEY DON'T HAVE SCHOOL TOMOOOOOROOOOW!" DeAnn (annoyed I'm sure at my whininess but also trying not to laugh at me) said, "Yeah, that's a typo...Shon told us about it at the meeting...oh yeah, you weren't there!" So at this point, Abbie is awake but not dressed, fed or brushed, I'm in my pajamas, the papers I need to fill out are un-filled-out, the supply list is not completely shopped for. It didn't even occur to me to say, "Oh, well, Abbie, you'll just have your first day next week." Even though, of course, that's what she was planning for anyway. It didn't occur to me to just skip it. No, this MOTY raced around the house like a complete madwoman, trying to find an outfit that wasn't totally wrinkled or stained (note to self: need to weed through Abbie's clothes again), stuffed a peanut-butter waffle in her face while filling out papers and our friend Krissy (who was visiting) attempted to tame her mop of hair. We then RAN out the door (oh, yes, I did get dressed, but barely) and made it to pre-school around the corner.
Total time elapsed from the time I saw DeAnn drive by to the time we got in the door of school: 21 minutes. I am a goddess.
Two days later, she started gymnastics again. What a hoot!