I'm the first to admit I don't do everything right. I'm also the first to admit that doing the "single parent thing" is tough. This isn't meant to be a debate about who has it harder--the internet is full of that with stay at home moms vs. working moms. But I have a theory born of watching my mom struggle as a single parent and then the times I have had to be the part time single parent--where you know it's not "supposed" to be this way, you are happily married after all--but still you are *on duty* 24/7 with little or no relief.
Personally I don't think it matters who has it worse. Hard is hard. Period. And we all struggle, just in different ways. Right now this is my way.
It's little wonder my brain gets overloaded sometimes and I screw up. I just don't usually screw up *this* big.
Saturday I'd planned to be the day that we deep clean the house. The problem was, it was also the weekend of the chili cookoff, primary program practice, and the program itself. I seriously, SERIOUSLY considered staying home and working on the house. It's needful. Desperately.
But after waffling about it for most of the day I decided to take the girls up to the practice. The twins chose to stay home and continue the cleaning. Awesome of them, really. They didn't have to do that. The girls wanted to stay for the chili, so I let them eat and then we grabbed some chicken to take home to the boys. (I've learned fried chicken is great currency to 14 yr old boys)
We did a little more to the house, trying to get the table cleared off and the kitchen done, before bedtime. Exhausted, we fell into bed a bit later than we really needed.
Then Sunday hit.
Now, Sundays are generally pretty basic. We get up, get ready, go to church. The boys and I head up and Papa brings the girls. As we gathered for family prayer I had the thought that I should call Papa and confirm that he was coming for the girls. I've done that before, especially after a weekend or two where our plans differed--I was out of town, he was out of town, General Conference, etc--but I dismissed it.
The boys and I pulled away from the house later than usual. On the way we passed Papa heading to our house and waved hello. When we turned the corner to head out of town Papa passed us. Wow, we thought, he sure picked up the girls fast.
That bothered me all the way to church. *remember, church for us is 30 miles away.
When we got there we realized the boys didn't have the bread for Sacrament. Their leader had gone home to get some. There's one thing we forgot.
Then church started. And my girls didn't show up. About 20 min into the meeting I went back and sat next to Papa. "You did pick up the girls right?"
"No," he responded, all surprised. "When you waved at me I thought that meant you'd gotten everyone."
So he didn't stop. So he didn't pick them up. That's how he got ahead of us on the way out of town.
Both my girls were so looking forward to the primary program. It was going to be Kylie's last one. And Rianne was the narrator. The NARRATOR. And the program was starting and she was at home. 30 miles away.
Obviously there's no way I can get home, get them, and get back in less than an hour. The program would be over and we'd be into the next class. There was absolutely nothing I could do to stop this disaster from unfolding.
All because I neglected to make a simple phone call.
Mind you, the girls are okay being home alone for a little while. But I had no way to call them, no way of letting them know what had happened or making sure they were okay. I started to worry that they'd try to find their own way to church. My mom brain went a little crazy.
Of all the days to forget to get my girls to church, it had to be the day of the primary program. Ugh.
I fell apart. I mean it. I got into the car and just bawled for 20 min. I'll spare you the rest of the details but I lost it. I felt so guilty, so stupid, so neglectful. Still kind of beating myself up about it.
So...when I posted on Facebook that we'd made a disastrous attempt at church Sunday I totally wasn't kidding.