Bulletin Board of Shame

If my girls' school had a Bulletin Board of Shame, my picture would officially be at the top.  In fact, it would probably have a big red circle with a line through it, symbolically declaring that under no circumstances should I be entrusted with a child.  Well, maybe not quite that bad since schools are mandatory reporters, and CPS hasn't come knock-knock-knocking...yet.  

Okay, I'm probably exaggerating a bit, but boy do I feel like the worst mom on the face of the planet right now.  Let me back up a bit.  Once upon a time, I was the absolute greatest.  I just was.  If you e-mailed me (I told you, backing up a bit), I would reply right away.  If you left me a message, I would call.  If you gave me a task, I would complete it ahead of time and better than you anticipated.  I was the pillar of organization and responsibility, proven by my grade point averages and my Circle of Responsibility that reached around the globe...twice.  

Then, I had kids and quit my paying job.  At first, the changes in my personality were subtle enough that I didn't even notice them.  It wasn't until my kids started school that it started to hit me that I was no longer on the ball.  In fact, the ball was locked away in some gym teacher's office, and I had absolutely no access to it.  The eldest was easy enough, but when the middle one started kindergarten last year, that's when I completely fell apart.  The amount of paperwork that comes home from school is mind-boggling, and I couldn't keep it straight to save my life.  Schedules and e-mails and websites and circus performing...it was just too much.  

That's when I really started to actually lose my mind and earned my initial place on the Bulletin Board of Shame.  Right around Christmas program time last year, my anxiety had risen to such a feverish level that I had myself a full-blown panic attack at the school the evening of the oldest's program.  I was lying on the sidewalk, in the dark and rain, and it occurred to me that maybe I wasn't the greatest anymore.  I got through it by the hair on my chinny chin chin, which I had forgotten to pluck, and managed to get my wet butt inside, but not before doing some deep breathing exercises in the hallway where the principal got to witness my undoing.  I'm pretty sure I won't be first on the sub list when I go back to work.  

So, with the help of some meds, I got the anxiety to a more reasonable level, but unfortunately, there's no pill to keep my crap organized and keep me from becoming That Mom.  I really am her.  I miss deadlines, picture days, school barbeques, field trips, pick up, drop off, most Thursdays all together, and Waste Free Wednesday (another blog for another day).  

Today, I was feeling pretty good.  I made most of dinner this morning, and it was a good one, too.  In between rain storms, I decided to get to work getting my yard pretty.  I hate yard work, but I love my husband and knew he'd be so proud of me that he might even buy me some vodka so I could have a cocktail (failure in reasoning:  he needs to know about the yard work ahead of time in order to bring the vodka home, and if I don't tell him, he doesn't know about it).  I weeded, poop scooped, cut back the hostas, and then did something I haven't done since we moved here:  I mowed the lawn.  Back AND front.  Oh, boy, was I feeling pleased with myself.  

Little did I know that while I was outside being Super Wife, the school was calling me on my phone that I neglected to bring out with me.  The Bean was in the office with a fever and a sore throat.  I got the message an hour after they called me, which also happened to be 10 minutes before school was dismissing.  When I finally called, they informed me that she had napped the afternoon away and they had pulled Wendy from her classroom so she could be with Nina.  Oh, man, did I deflate quickly.  The school secretary's voice was dripping with disdain, and I can hardly say I blame her, even though Nina really is the cutest thing when she's sleeping and it should have been delightful for them to look in on her while they waited for her neglectful mother to come rescue her.  

Now, mind you, this is a very cautious school.  Like, super duper cautious.  I kid you not, last year, they sent Nina home with a very bad tummy ache, advising me to take her to the doctor because some parasite from Panama or something was going around school.  It took exactly one good fart for Nina to feel better, but by then, we were halfway home.  So, when they asked if I would like to come get her or if she and her sister should ride their bikes home, I said to let 'em ride.  I mean, I don't exactly trust the school's story on how bad my kids' condition actually is.  

Turns out, it was 102.8 degrees bad.  I not only let her rot away in the office all afternoon--or, you know, an hour--but I also made her ride her bike home.  This is why my picture has been moved to the top of the board.  I would just like to tell whomever is on the Mother of the Year nominating committee that I completely understand my omission from your list of candidates.  If you need me, I'll be glued to my phone, waiting for the next illness to strike.