Facebook is my happy place.
Recently I have heard a lot backlash regarding moms whose social media posts are always showcasing the positive. I’ve read blog posts addressing this to the effect of, “I know you are lying. No one is that happy. Just be real.”
I forgot today was Library Day for my daughter at school, and here sits her library book on the end table by our front door. I feel awful.
You might be thinking, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a library book. Return it tomorrow.” I know, and I will. But, here’s the thing. My daughter is a worrier and so conscientious. She cares so much about doing the right thing, especially at school. She wants to do well. She wants her teachers to be proud of her. Even on her way out the door this morning she was checking with me to make sure everything was in order for her day.
“Where’s my mac and cheese?” she asked.
“In your lunchbox, in your backpack.” I replied.
“My folder? My homework?” she inquired.
“Yep. It’s in there, too.” I said, as we hurried out the door to the bus. She had everything she needed for school.
Then a few hours later I remembered –
Library Day. Oh no. Her book. Dammit.
Now, I am sitting here, broken-hearted, thinking about how she must be feeling. Thinking about the moment the teacher says it is time for Library and the disappointment she may feel. It’s not her fault. It’s my fault. And I am so, so upset about it.
It’s not the first time I’ve forgotten, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Sometimes momlife just scrambles the brain. There is so much to keep track of and (attempt to) keep organized. Homework and spirit days, doctors appointments and birthday parties, play dates and speech therapy – and, those dang library books. Gah!
But, guess what? It will be ok. My daughter will be ok. The book will get returned, and it will be ok. Although I am feeling bad now, tomorrow is a new day. It is another fresh start, and I will use it to try my best to be a good mom.
Just like I did today.
And, even if things don’t always work out as we would have hoped, what more can we do than try our best?
Dear Speech Therapist,
You met my daughter, a little pixie of a girl, almost four years ago. She had round cheeks and two tiny, wispy pigtails that you tell me you remember like it was yesterday. Although my little girl had recently turned three years old, she had less than 25 words in her vocabulary when you met.
You and my daughter clicked almost instantly and began building the foundation for the unbreakable bond the two of you would go on to form. Your kind and loving nature put my timid little girl at ease. I knew from the very beginning that you were the right person for the job of helping her learn to communicate with the world.
December 13, 2012.
My family woke up bright and early in a hotel room in Boston. Only we weren’t there for vacation. We were there to have my daughter undergo a cardiac procedure at Boston Children’s Hospital.
In August 2012, our local children’s hospital had recommended that Evalyn needed another open heart surgery. A third open heart surgery in less than two years! My heart broke hearing that news and thinking about how much her 20-month-old little body had been through already. Continue reading
“Go up to the bathroom!” I said firmly to my daughter.
I was frantically packing folders with school papers and reheating leftover pasta for my daughter’s lunch. The bus would be at our house in less than 20 minutes and we had made zero progress on our getting-ready-for-school routine. And, yet my daughter stood there in her pajamas watching me run around the kitchen trying to get things ready with no sense of urgency at all.
