As some of you may know, my house was broken in to on Friday night. My husband was away with his band, and I was alone. I was afraid to go to sleep on both Friday and Saturday night, which left me as a zombie during the day. On Saturday at 8 AM, I got a call from the forensics guy, asking to come in at 8:30 AM and dust for fingerprints. Yikes! I was still in my pjs, and my house was still quite messy. I jumped up, went crazy with the tidying, and opened the door right on time for the very cute cop to come inside. He liked my cat.
After that, I had to start getting cupcakes ready for my nephew's birthday, and get my other son to a party at 2 PM. I baked the cupcakes and ran down to get the decorations. But, I missed the cake store. It closed at 12. So, I came back, readied my son for the party and delivered him, then got home and tried to get an hour's sleep. When I arrived to pick up my son from the party, he wasn't in the pool with the other kids. He was sitting out. I was then informed that he'd been sick since 20 minutes into the party. I hadn't heard my phone ringing when they tried to let me know. So, he sat there the whole time, shivering, feverish, and feeling like throwing up, and I wasn't there. Why didn't I answer my phone?.....because it was on silent--something that happens quite often, but not deliberately. I should have made sure my phone was not on silent, and I should have had it in my pocket. But, I am a harebrained mother. Yep. 1 point in the 'Useless' column.
However, the parents of the party girl took really good care of Kyan, and even bought him a hot chocolate to keep him warm. They were every lovely people. And Kyan was very thankful to them.
Anyway, so I get home and we all have takeout for dinner (again) because I was just too tired to cook. So tired, in fact, that I nearly hit 3 cars on the way home. But, all was well because the day was over.
But so came the night, and the fear of burglars.
I went to bed with a knife under my pillow, but refused to go to sleep until my husband got home (at 4 AM). I fell asleep, though, some time just before 2 AM, and woke to him brushing my hair off my face (a sweet goodnight). I nearly jumped out of my skin and attacked him. Ha ha ha. I sleepwalk when I'm really tired. So, he's lucky I didn't instinctively kill him.
Anyway, so, Sunday came, and I had to go to the shop to get cupcake decorations. But the shops here don't open until 11 AM on a Sunday. My nephew's party was at 1:30 PM. I was running out of time, and still had to get a costume for my son from my sister's house because, as you guessed it, my useless parenting stepped up to make sure I didn't have one. All our costumes are in the garage--stored away because the kids kept leaving them out. Well, that punishment backfired.
Anyway, so, I went to the shop but only took $20 with me--just enough to get the cupcake stuff, and not enough to get milk or food for lunch for school tomorrow. (In Aus, we pack lunch for our kids in a lunchbox. They have a cafeteria, which we call a canteen or tuckshop, but they don't sell very good food there, and Preschoolers (like my son Will) can't go to the canteen).
So, Monday comes around and my eldest son enters at 6 AM, asking where his uniform is. I told him it was in the basket by the dryer. He found it in the washing machine---unwashed. Apparently, I'd forgotten to turn the machine on. Yup. Parenting points for me.
He ironed (pressed) his own pants (he's 12), and was now late for his bus, so I had to drive him, get breakfast for the little ones (because there was no milk or bread, so McDonald's it was) and still had to go to the shop (that opened at 8 AM) and then get to school before it started at 8:25. I wasn't dressed. It was getting late (7:30 AM by this point), and Jake's school was across town--about 10-15 minutes drive.
"Yup," I told the boys. "We're gonna be late." But was determined not to be. We're not usually late, or this disorganised. Okay, so, maybe sometimes.
I located uniforms for the little ones, dressed my self while they dressed themselves, and loaded everyone up in the car--upsetting Kyan on the way because I told him we wouldn't have time for McDonald's. He asked why nothing in his life ever turned out the way he plans, and why he has such crappy days all the time.
I asked him to tell me why that was case--why he thought life was like that.
He told me God is preparing him for adult life.
Well, at least I made the good choice to send them to a Catholic school. One parenting point in the 'Way-to-go' column, right?
Anyway, we dropped Jake off, and I get to Coles (supermarket) and gather up recess and lunch supplies. They had a cheese and bacon bread roll, cupcakes, apple, and two other packaged, unhealthy items for their lunchbox. I ran across town and gave them McDonald's so that my son wouldn't lose his faith in life, and when I went to pack their lunch into their lunchboxes in the trunk of the car, realised I had forgotten the sandwich bags (or wrappers). Their bread rolls and cupcakes had to be put in their lunchboxes unwrapped.
Parent of the year!
We rock up at school, and the classroom door is locked because all the kids are already at assembly. Will (my 5 year old) goes through the other classroom door to get a mat to sit on at assembly, and we head over to find his teacher just as all the kids sit down after singing their school anthem. Silence ensued. Will went to walk down the centre of the aisle to get to his class, and I pulled him back and told him to walk around the outside so no one would see us. But all the 'good' moms and a couple of cute dads and a very cute, very new teacher, saw me walking my preschooler late into assembly and slink away at a very fast pace, hiding my shameful face.
I concluded, as I sped away from the school (at the correct speed limit), that I might have to get a nanny very soon.
But, although this sounds like a negative post--me bagging on myself for being useless--I pride myself on being a good mom where it counts. They might not always have pressed pants or be on time for school, but I teach them what they need to know about life, and love them unconditionally. And I guess, at the end of the day, that's what they'll remember when they grow up and have their own kids.
So, to all the moms out there who don't sweep their floors every night, who skip every second page at story time, and who sometimes put junk food in their kids' lunchboxes, this post is for you. Let's not be hard on ourselves. Parenting, after all, is hard enough.
You are all great moms. And...now they're all at school, let's just kick back and read a book. That laundry pile won't wash itself, but it's damn-well worth the try.