From the Archives: Mother of the Year Moments…We All Have Them

This post originally ran on June 28, 2010.

Recently in The Secret is in the Sauce (aka The SITS girls) community, there was a discussion about how moms need support. Stephanie from Dial M for Minky said she’d like to hear about things other moms do that compare to her forgetting to re-pack the diaper bag. Oh, do I have stories for you.

I call these my Mother of the Year Moments, and they deserve no rewards. I’m hoping that calling them by this term people will be so amused they forget the actual harming of the children. Yes, we all (you know you do it too!) go far beyond forgetting to re-stock the diapers. That’s nothing compare to what you have to look forward to Stephanie.

I must stress here that none of this is ever intentional. I don’t wake up in the morning and think, “today is the day I will zap Jeremy! Aaron! Jermaine!” I don’t playfully yell out, “Bazinga!” when I perform a Mother of the Year Moment. I do share so you know that you know that you are not alone.

Last Friday I drove Aaron to track club by himself. The twins are on a different schedule and had the day off. I had to take him extra early because I wanted to get to water aerobics. I dropped him off and went to dance and spin in the pool (I like to pretend I am a serious contender for the Olympic Synchronized Swimming team). I took a nice long shower and chatted with other gym members to delay leaving. I had no desire to sit outside the school waiting for Aaron to get done. Imagine my surprise (horror?!) when I saw him sitting all alone on the curb. His first words, “I didn’t have practice today, Mom.” Somehow I had gotten the schedule messed up and left him sitting on the curb for two whole hours. In the sun. No water. No company. So many seriously bad things could have happened.

I immediately called Jim to confess. I even cried a little. I genuinely felt horrible. Aaron’s pleasant attitude about the whole thing only made me feel worse. He didn’t get mad, he didn’t pout. He laughed about it and said the whole entire school was locked so he couldn’t get a drink. He didn’t even say it in a guilt-inducing way, either. Just matter of fact-ly. He even managed to tear up when I was crying just a little because he felt bad for me.

Aunt Darlene pointed out that I would quickly forget this incident when I felt like clobbering him in a few days. I have to admit after the trips to Wendy’s (guilt-induced fast food lunch) and Target (regular shopping) that the guilt was reduced by a small degree. Shopping with Aaron is never a pleasant task.

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