mom of the year

I'm sitting at my desk at work. I just received a phone call -- on the cell phone, no less, which I hadn't turned down the ringer on because I rarely receive calls anyway -- from Lizzy's school.
At least they weren't checking her for lice this time around. No -- this time, she's in the office, crying.

Why, you ask? Lizzy loves first grade! What happened?

Well, the parents were invited to some sort of luncheon today. Some special thing. And Lizzy's parents aren't there.

It seems she thought we were coming, despite the 10-minute conversation we had last week about how we were NOT coming. And everyone else has at least one parent there, naturally (according to Lizzy).

"Please come!" she sniffles into the phone. "I want you to come!"
I explain that, even if I left now, I wouldn't be able to make it before the luncheon ended.
"Yes you can!" she sobs urgently. "Just try!"

You have no idea, gentle readers, how hard I worked to carve out time for each and every stunt of this nature that her day care pulled over the years. I NEVER wanted my kid to be "that kid" -- the one looking mournful in a corner whilst the other kiddies proudly pulled their parents around the room at this or that holiday party. I always felt for that kid. To make matters worse, these parties -- which were, at least, scheduled toward the END of the day, not the EXACT MIDDLE -- tended to end earlier than the kids were normally picked up, so all the kids would go home early. Except that kid.

So, right now, as I type, Lizzy is 30 miles away, crying at school because I'm not there for her special occasion.

I could, and perhaps should, take this opportunity to rant about why the schools feel the need to do this. They require plenty of our time -- parent/teacher conferences at times convenient to THEM; early dismissals before holidays that are padded before and behind with days off; teacher workdays; snow days; etc. Whatever "vacation" I receive at work must go toward covering these, plus days that my children are sick. And I can't just plan an actual vacation around times when Lizzy's off of school, because only one of us in my department is allowed to take vaca at any one time. So, Thanksgiving? Christmas? Spring break? Taken, taken, taken.

I know I should be there for her more. And for Maddie. I love my job, but hate that we have to maintain two full-time gigs to have any hope of keeping this ship afloat. Don't you think I would do it differently, if I at all could?

So now I sit here at my desk, feeling like total crap. And, as Matt points out, this will go down in Lizzy's memory banks as a significant time that her parents WERE NOT there for her. She'll be traumatized, and vow not to do this to her children.

It really just doesn't feel fair.