I’ve got this award girls, so quit trying.
I am well on my way to winning the Worst Mother-of-the-Year Award.
I think it’s December. I seem to have troubles in this month. Perhaps there’s just too much on my mind. Last December I frantically jumped out of bed, ran downstairs, burst into my son’s room and dragged his poor sleeping self out of bed. He was late. We were all late. The alarm clock failed us. I failed us. Dang mornings!
Then I realized it was only 4:14 am. I dragged my kid out of bed in the middle of the night and made him get ready for school. Yes, I did. I still don’t know how that happened, but at the time, it all made perfect sense in my head. I was sure we were late.
This December, I woke my kids up, barked at them to find their hats and gloves or else they would surely freeze to death, and pushed them out the door. They were half-way to school when a car pulled over. The guy rolled down his window and yelled, “Kids! Go back home. There’s a two-hour delay for school.”
In my defense, I grabbed my phone and checked the local weather station before I even got out of bed. I do solemnly swear I am telling the truth. I saw nothing. Nothing.
School is rarely delayed and hardly ever cancelled. When you live in a place that gets a lot of snow, you don’t get a lot of snow days. Live in a place where snow is scarce and I guarantee you’ll get a day off for ever flake or icicle. That’s just the way it is, so I figured they had school.
I guess I figured wrong. Again.
Goodness. Parenting is hard work, but for all the wrong reasons. It’s always the little stuff that causes the good mom-crown to crash to floor and break into a million little pieces.
Tomorrow morning, I’m calling the weather station.