The Bad Mother
CRAP CRAP CRAP. I FAIL.
Linnea has the fucking state mandated testing. She HATES it, and we've discussed opting her out (remember, dyslexia, dyscalculia...) but she does insist on doing it, though she gets to work in a room with only a few others students, thank goodness, to minimize distractions.
On Sunday -three whole days ago- she asked me if I could make her a good breakfast this morning (ie an "egg McMuffin".) I said sure, made sure we had English muffins.....
.... and this morning, I totally 100% forgot. She didn't remind me, just told me as she was going out the door that she had testing this morning. I'm not even 100% sure she ate breakfast.
Gah. I feel like a horrible parent. I wish she'd said something.
The reason this kills me? She is SO good about remembering things about others. If one of us mentions a test or something we're nervous about, she remembers to ask how things went, she remembers to follow up on events we've mentioned. And I forgot the damn testing. (Note that the school used to send an email the night before to remind parents of high stakes testing, but I guess they're no longer doing that.)
In an attempt to expiate my guilt, I went to Starbucks and bought her gift card, and wrote her a note apologizing, and, at the suggestion of a friend, adding how I felt extra bad because of how thoughtful she always is.
Wednesday was a warm day, the first time the temps had gone to 70F since last October. I think I was forgiven, or at least that she enjoyed the fruits of my guilt.
It was a dark and stormy afternoon.....
This both made me laugh and kinda cry a bit too. We've had some pretty bad thunderstorms yesterday afternoon/through the night. Lots of lightening and thunder, which is not usual for the PNW. Linnea is terrified of storms.
So yesterday she got off the school bus into a thunder and lightening storm, and had to walk 1.5 miles home (it was the late bus, she'd stayed for homework help, and they only make a few stops, that's the closest). She got home, soaking wet to find.... the back door unlocked, AND the door between the laundry room and the rest of the house open. It usually stays closed, for various reasons. She was terrified to go inside, tried to call me, I was in lab working, but I guess dh whom she called next helped her out, calmed her down, and she went over to some of the neighbours who went into the house with her to make sure someone had not broken in (very low prob, but this is Linnea, anxiety child of my three, and she knew we'd left a few windows cracked yesterday because it was hot.).
Anyhow, all was well, and she proceeded with her afternoon more happily. Anne-Chloe had been home between uni and coaching, and not bothered locking up or closing doors behind her. When dh and I got home a couple of hours later, we found a dish with a pat of butter on the counter, near the cat's curl up box on the counter. Huh? Later Linnea explained. She's been SO sure she was going to come inside to ransacked house and a "murdered cat" (her words) and she was so grateful that BamBam was fine that she decided to give him a celebratory pat of butter. He loves butter.