mother, interrupted

I had a really terrible week this week. I was under the weather, and some personal issues were problematic, and I was really busy at work, and my children were with their father for several days. Somehow, in the midst of all the commotion, I got confusd about when my children's school Christmas program was. I thought it was NEXT Thursday, but it was last night.

And I missed it.

That's right, I am the worst mother on the planet. I accidentally missed my children's school Christmas pageant.

Let that sink in a minute. It's terrible. I feel terrible.

They are always with their father on Thursday night, so he went and I didn't. I was actually at work until 8pm and when I got home, I got a call from my daughter, who asked me in a quavery voice why I hadn't been there.

This ranks as one of the worst moments as a parent...ever.

After I apologized profusely and explained I had thought it was next Thursday, I hung up and cried. I also once again cursed being a divorced parent. The shuffling back and forth between two houses is hard on all of us, although the kids would tell you there are some things about it that they like, but for me, it's extremely hard to keep up with their schedules and lessons and appointments and school events with them gone 1/3 of the time. If a note goes home on a day they are with their father, it often falls into an abyss and I never get it. This is despite the fact that their father and I are in touch via e-mail pretty much daily. It's just very hard to keep all the balls in the air with two households and three children and all the back and forth... I am not a tremendously organized mother to begin with and sometimes I drop the ball.

Tonight the children are home, and for the first night in what seems like ages, we have nothing we HAVE to be doing. No games or lessons or parties or school events, no school in the morning (it's Friday), so no homework to get done. So the house is full of happy, homebound noises: Christmas music, the boys playing a video game, Jane chattering on the phone to her best friend. The Christmas tree is all lit up and the house is cozy and warm. I feel more relaxed than I have since getting that gut-wrenching phone call informing me I'd committed this horrible parenting sin.