The Boy had to go in early to turn in his pads and football equipment, so Hollywood dropped him off. The school is only a mile away, and so she came back home to finish getting ready for school. Bumblebee had gone off to the bus stop during this time (the bus stop is just a couple of houses down the street). I don't know why - there must have been some subconscious thought process going on, but when Hollywood came back inside, I asked her if she saw Bumblebee at the bus stop. She said that she was there, safe and sound. I had a thought, but again, it was fuzzy, and not fully formed. "She's not the only kid there, is she?" I asked.
Well, she was. And then I remembered. It was Friday. November 4th. And we had BREAKFAST WITH PARENTS on our schedule.
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
I asked Hollywood to call Bumblebee in from the bus stop. I didn't want her to be the only kid on the bus, when all of the GOOD parents remembered to go into school early to have coffee and donuts with their kids. Hollywood did as I asked, but I was in such a frenzy that I ran outside (in my pajamas) and hollered at her myself. "Get in the car!" I yelled. "It's breakfast with parents!"
So... I sprinted to the bedroom, changed out my pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans, and threw on a sweater. I tossed the baby into her car seat and headed for the car. I didn't comb my hair, brush my teeth, or put on makeup. I looked scary. I only hoped that the sweater covered up any breast milk stains that might still be on my shirt. I'm glamourous these days, y'all.
But it didn't matter what I looked like - I had to get to the school with Bumblebee. As I was getting into the car, Hollywood said, "You're a good mom." I looked at her, about ready to cry. I'm three weeks postpartum, people. Hormones! I raised an eyebrow and she quickly added, "No - I mean it! I know you forgot the breakfast, but you're doing everything you can to get there. You're a good mom."
Ack. Very high praise from a teenager. I couldn't speak, so I hugged her and ran to the car.
I was pretty sure we didn't make the breakfast, but my goal was to at least drive Bumblebee to school so that she didn't have to ride the bus by herself. In the car, I apologized fifteen times for forgetting Breakfast with Parents. Bumblebee, ever the sweetie, said, "It's ok if we missed it, Mommy. I don't really like donuts that much anyway."
Again with the Ack. Can she be any sweeter?
Turns out that we got there in time and as a bonus, they served breakfast pizza instead of donuts, so Bumblebee was stoked.
Later that night Hollywood apologized to me for how she acted when she was 13 and, in her words: "I was cranky and fought with you and hated on you all the time." I asked her what prompted that and she said they were talking about it in her English class and she thought back to those oh so fun times. It made me smile. I reassured her that I only got what I deserved, since I did the same thing to my own mother at age 13.
I'll leave you with one last 'Ack' moment. The Husband found this sticky note stuck to his laptop the other day:
*photo of a sticky that has a heart with me + Dad written inside:
When you turn it over, this is what it said:
*photo of the sticky that says "P.S. Me is Vali"
It's these tender moments that make me cherish being a mom. Even if I am a scatterbrained, forgetful one these days.