It's Not That I Feel Guilty

Last night I did not win any parenting awards.

We were out of prescription cat food. Which can only be purchased at PetSmart. With the prescription.

When I picked the little angel up from the neighbor's house, it was already past six. By the time we got the cat food and hit the bank, it was 6:40. By the time I'd Skyped Grandma and Grandpa to tell them about the read-a-thon and cooked the mac & cheese, it was 7:20. The little angel was covered in mud. It was supposed to be Party for Girls because Beloved had a work thing. I told her we could play Zhu Zhu Vets before the bath.

But by the time dessert was ingested and homework was done, it was nearly 8.

There was foot stamping. There were mad eyes. Then, in the bathtub, she suddenly said something about my needing to check her backpack even when she didn't have homework and burst into gut-wrenching sobs. Apparently there was a permission slip we'd missed and the rest of the class got to go do something while she and two other kids had to watch two videos. She didn't even know what she'd missed.

I finally persuaded her to get out of the bathtub and dry off. I held her wrapped in a towel and tried to comfort her, but she was lost in that childhood place called Left Out.

We got into her bed and read until my voice started to give out. She asked if I would cuddle for a little bit. I turned out the light and heard her muttering.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This was the worst Party for Girls EVER."

She finally fell asleep, and I staggered downstairs. 9:30. I'd stopped working three hours before. I still had stuff do, personally and professionally, but I felt like I was walking through a nearly-fell-asleep wall of water. I was tired, emotionally drained. I'd missed calls from my sister and emails from my husband. Kind of just couldn't balance it all. Just ... cooked. And I felt like -- no matter how hard I tried -- I would never see every message or permission slip. Like -- I would always be letting somebody down by virtue of how much stuff I was trying to fit into every day. But everyone feels like that, right? RIGHT? I know -- I read the posts, the essays. I know I'm not the only person trying to balance a job and writing and family and friends.

Beloved reminded me that if forgetting a permission slip was the worst parenting move I ever pulled, everything was fine.

But it's not really that I felt guilty. I knew this morning was the book fair and a mommy-and-kid breakfast thing that I'd already planned to attend. And picture day. My husband wasn't upset about the missed email, my sister would forgive me. I knew it would all be fine.

I think I just felt bad for the little angel, in the empathetic way that understands the world of Left Out. Of Missed the Boat. Of It Won't Happen Again and I Wasn't There.

Or course it's fine today. But I do understand.