>Behind the curtain….


Yeah you moms know what I’m talking about…
It’s really really great to act like and try to make the world, or at least your own little family unit, think that you are the “great and powerful Oz.”  Right? Right.
And much of the time we can fake it.  Or we can fool ourselves into thinking that we are making or faking it. And when we are really “on” we make it look effortless.  {Insert maniacal laugh here.} 
Sometimes we’ll even have other folks say to us, “Oh but  you are so pulled together!” Yeah.  That’s it.
But then, now and then, you run into those times when everyone gets to see behind the curtain. And the truth is revealed. Not only are you not the “great and all powerful Oz Mom” but you are pedaling and pushing the levers as fast as you can, sweating even!

Yup.  Mom fail.  It happens, to the best of us.
Some of us however have more opportunities to fail…yeah,  you moms, you still know what I’m talking about.  I believe that the number of kids you have is a direct correlation to the number of fail opportunities that will present.  Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  So, follow me here: if you think about it….with my eight kids (and I get extra chance points for having some with particular needs…) I have, um, let’s see…approximately 11,000 chances per week.

And, today I got another.  I got the Christmas version, oh boy oh boy.
You see, most of my kids got out of school last Friday on the 17th.  One of my daughters is at a different school and had a few days left in class this week.  Three.  Or so I thought.  So she said.  So I thought the website said.  And don’t get all snippy and ask why I didn’t get the schedule handouts.  Because I didn’t get the schedule handouts. I don’t even know if they had schedule handouts.  Because this daughter doesn’t let me get to her backpack and go through her papers often, it becomes a battle and therefore I choose not to.  But I digress.  Anyhow, so even this morning, she traipsed off to school and as she got on the bus she I said, “2:30 pickup?” and she said, “Yup.”

Off she went.  Back in the house I went.  Then I went off to the market and flipped the laundry and checked in with the other kids and so on.  As soon as I made it in to start wrapping her teacher gifts, my cell rang. It was her school. It was her principle.  Uh oh?  So, I picked it up and her very nice principle, we’ll call her Ms. Principle, said, “Is anyone coming to get Sarah today?”  “Wha??,” was my eloquent reply,  “Aren’t they done at 2:30?” Genius, right?  “No,” says kind and long suffering Ms. Principle, “they are out at 10:30 this  morning.” “Is today the last day of school,” I say in my flash of numbingly stupid insight, “I thought it was tomorrow! Oh no! I have her teacher gifts right here.  Ok, Ok, I’m on my way.”  “Are you far?” asks Ms. Principle because now it’s after 11 and she wants to go home.  “No, at home, on my way now!”
And I threw the yummy teacher treats in gift bags and taped their cards to the front so fast it was like a cartoon.  And I grabbed my purse and coat and box of gift bags and keys and went outside to find that my son had taken my car.  And I went back inside to dig through the drawers to find the truck key. And I found it and raced up to the street and threw the box and purse and self in and took off to school.  Clock ticking, I knew the principle and maybe one teacher was waiting patiently as my sweet daughter sat in the office, last kid at school, waiting for her slacker mom to come pick her up.
I screeched to a stop in front of the school in the almost empty parking lot, grabbed my keys and box of gift bags and raced inside the now empty school building.  Two of the teachers were still there, plus Sarah’s and the principle.  They were all ready to go.  Oh dear.  Bad mom.  I crashed into the office, and smiled crookedly at Sarah, and said, “I am SO sorry!  This is why God gives babies to YOUNG women (line stolen from best friend’s dear mom, thank you Jean!) !”  Now they were all sweet and kind and made nice polite small talk, so as not to embarrass me further.  
But, they knew.  
Mom fail.
Christmas edition.

See that mom behind the curtain??? She’s working those pedals and levers and buttons as fast as she can….but sometimes the whole contraption clanks to a heap.
Maybe I need me some ruby slippers….