Well, folks, it's official. Tom and the kids will soon start looking at nice homes for me to live in where the rooms are all padded and they play nothing but soft, soothing canned muzak. Or maybe I'll be the youngest person ever to enter into an Alzheimer's care facility. I don't know what, but something has to be done!
Let me explain by first stating this: I am the WORLD'S WORST MOTHER. I'm not proud of it, and I really have tried to do better, but there it is. I yam what I yam, as Popeye would say it...
This morning, Evan came into my room before I was fully awake to remind me that it was Tuesday, and therefore he would need a ride home from wrestling practice as he has each Tuesday for the last 3 weeks. I clearly remember this conversation (in retrospect), and I remember telling him I'd be there at 5:15ish, and to have a good day at school. So far, so good in the caring mom category, right?
Yesterday I ended up taking half of the day off of work because Savannah had caught a nasty cold. She feels much better today, so it was off to school for her and off to work for me. At work, I had many things to do to catch up. I was working along at a pretty good clip when 5:00 p.m. rolled around, and I remember thinking that if I worked until 5:30 or 6:00 p.m. each night I could make up all those missed hours and not have to use any of my sick leave.
So, like the diligent, conscientious worker I am, that's what I did. I closed up shop at 6:00 p.m., shut down the computer, and locked up the office. I meandered out to my car and drove the 25-minute drive it takes me to get home. A drive, I might add, that takes me RIGHT PAST THE HIGH SCHOOL. I sailed by, noting the football practice going on near the north entrance, and enjoying the lovely drought-tolerant garden that the school planted near the front entrance. I then continued on my merry little way until I reached home.
As I pulled in the driveway, Braden, the son who still loves me, came out to the vehicle. He is taking Spanish this year, so he quite often tries to carry on conversations with his limited vocabulary.
Braden: "Donde es mi' bro-her?"
Me: "Where is WHAT?"
Braden: "Donde es My BROTHER? He never rode the bus home..."
Me: "AACCKKK!!! Oh my God - I'll be back!" And off I went...
Luckily, Evan was still waiting there, right where he'd been for the last hour and a half, even as he watched me zip by without so much as a look. I have tried passing it off as a test of his patience, but he's not buying it. I've also apologized profusely, and assured him of my undying, yet oft-forgetful love for him. I also bought him dinner at McDonalds and a gallon of his favorite gatorade, so I really should be off the hook.
Sometimes there are good things about losing all your marbles, so maybe this will be one of those painful memories I'll block out. Still, I have the feeling he'll be reminding me of this one for the next 10 years or so... At least until he has his own child to forget!
Love you Ev!