The worst mom ever

I am the worst mom ever.  The worst.  I suppose it is fitting that I should have this story to tell so close to Mother’s Day (which is Sunday by the way Tom).

So this morning the Princess wakes up and says she is soooo tired.  This doesn’t really surprise me.  This week she had softball practice on Monday, horseback riding lessons on Tuesday and softball practice again last night.  That’s a heavy schedule for an 11 year-old.  And she had the same schedule last week.  I just gave her a pep talk and sent her on her way, telling her she didn’t have to go to softball practice tonight if she was still so tired after school.

I get everyone to school and go to the gym for my yoga class.  I love my yoga class.  And for some reason today’s class was really good.  I left feeling very relaxed and Zen-like.

That didn’t last long.

I arrived home to find three messages on my answering machine.  All from the Middle School telling me to come get Her Royal Highness.  They had been calling since 9:30 in the morning.  It was now just after 11am.  Oh holy crap.

“Why didn’t they call my cell?” I thought to myself.  I checked my cell only to discover the stupid thing was not turned on.  D’oh!

So I call the nurse’s office and say I’ll be right there.  Get back in the car and drive like the wind to the middle school.  Of course the middle school is out in the middle of freaking nowhere and it took me about a week and a half to get there (actually 10 minutes).  And the whole way I was telling myself not to speed.  Why?  Because I did not have time to get stopped by a traffic cop that’s why.  It would only make me more late.  Gah!

I race into the office and collect my poor little girl.  Apologizing profusely to anybody and everybody who will listen. Turns out they called the house, my cell, the gym (who said I wasn’t checked in even though I was, odd), even Tom.  Oh I have never ever in my life felt so awful.

I am wracked with guilt.  And the worst part about it is Princess O is perfectly cool about it and not mad or anything.  I think I might need to buy her a pony.  Or a car.  Or both.

A little later Tom called in a panic wondering what was going on.  He had just listened to his voicemail message from the middle school.  I assured him the crisis was past, but his phone call made me feel bad all over again.

I suck.


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