“There are too many things” is what I said by way of an excuse when I entirely forgot to take my youngest child to his prep orientation day a couple of weeks ago.
I had spent the day feeling like I was absolutely acing being a parent. To be fair, I should have been suspicious at the first hint of confidence in my own parenting skills, because that alone is usually a pretty good indication that I’ve forgotten something pretty significant.
My sense of pride was deserved though, I think. I’d remembered that it was Day for Daniel, so my kids were wearing red t-shirts (which I’d run out to Kmart to buy the previous evening), and I’d even remembered to give them each a gold coin to fulfil the donation requirement of the day.
I’d managed to drop all three off on time, and with minimal fuss, and I spent the day at home hand-making their costumes for a Halloween party we were to attend that evening.
“Gee-whiz,” I thought, because something about sitting in front of the sewing machine transports me and my vocabulary right back to the 1950s. “I’m really winning at motherhood today.”
But, like all my shining moments, it quickly crashed into a worst-mother-in-the-world kind of day when I glanced at my phone calendar on the way to kindy pickup at 2:45pm. I know it’s probably a bit late to be looking at my calendar for the first time, but I’m cocky enough still to think I can remember everything without setting alerts. On this particular day, I realised with a sinking heart that I was supposed to pick my five-year-old up and take him to prep orientation at 12pm.