All week I've been planning ahead so that today would go smoothly. I notified Ally's volleyball coach in advance that she wouldn't be able to play in her game because her project on helping bees thrive had been selected for the district science fair. I delayed sleepovers and prepared the right clothes and packed snacks. I charged batteries, repaired her display board, and planned everyone's day so that we could all meet at the fair and then go on to conquer our assignments from there.
I'll understand if you choose not to believe the version of events that follows. I am an unreliable narrator. But after my best laid plans, here's what actually happens...
Everything goes moderately well on our way to the event. Ally and I are singing and practicing fractions in the car, and she isn't getting sick. I find the high school on time, or close enough. But we see no boards. Lots of cars, lots of athletes, but no junior scientists anywhere. I check my email. The flyer won't download. I call Bim. His phone goes directly to voice mail. I decide to call the event coordinator: her phone number in the email is missing the last digit.
"Are you sure we have the right day?" Ally asks.
"Totally sure. Double-dog sure. I just rechecked it." I even show her the email. "See? May 16. Saturday. Cabrillo High School."
"But what if today isn't the 16th? What if it's like, the 11th or the 23rd or something?"
A fair question. And here's the part I'm least proud of: I have to check my phone to find out what day of the month it is. It's the 9th.
We haven't pulled completely out of the parking lot before Ally starts asking me about her iPod, repeatedly. I toss my bag back to her and tell her to fish it out.
"I don't see it, Mom. It's not in here."
"You're not looking hard enough."
"Really? It's weird because it really doesn't seem like it's in here. Are you sure you..."
"YES, I'm sure! Keep looking! 100% sure."
But then I feel the rectangle in my back pocket and I know. We have to cancel Mother's Day.
THE END.
Except that all morning I've been in an agony of realization as the dominoes fall. What does it mean that I can't get the most basic things right? For one thing, it means my kids can't depend on me to be right, even when I'm "100% Double-Dog Sure" about something. Why should they trust me? I don't trust me. In my confusion at the high school I didn't call my friend whom I knew would have the answer because I also absolutely knew that, if something was wrong, it was me who got it wrong, and I was proud enough, or ashamed enough, to do preemptive damage control on my reputation. I don't need any fools to know what a dummy I am.
If you know me, you know that I have always been this way. And it's no good telling me that everyone is like this sometimes. Because I know for a fact that my neighbor isn't and my friends X, Y, and Z aren't, and basically no one is this bad. And it's not getting any better. Chances are good that I have peaked already (without noticing, of course) and that things will only get worse from here. So! Here's how we will cope: my kids will have to get used to checking the facts for themselves and pushing back when I reassure them, even if it annoys me, and it probably definitely will. How can that be good?
And that's when I realized what great, patient but skeptical citizens I am raising. Congressional oversight committee? With this kind of early training, anything is possible.
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| This is going to be so great. Next week. |
