I'll let you in on a dirty little secret: I'm no Supermom. Not even close. A lot of people in my life think I am. I got a few Mother's Day greetings this year that alluded to that fact.
Yesterday was your spring concert. 12:55pm-1:20pm. Seriously. 25 minutes. No siblings, grandparents, or significant other important people were allowed to attend due to space constraints. The date has been circled on our calendar for weeks. I was thrilled to see it fell between two weeks of planned travel I had for work.
And then last week happened. And I kissed you goodbye a few times and left my returns open-ended. Which, while you rolled with it, beat my heart up pretty good. I've written about it before. I have always traveled and worked full-time (plus some!) while being a Mama. You're used to it. Daddy is our hero. And all last week, I kept thinking about your concert. May 13.
I'm no Supermom. But yesterday, when you marched up to those chorale risers in your perfect little maxi skirt and my borrowed dangly earrings and made eye contact with me and beamed, I felt like one. I was there. I kept my promise.
I never turned in my $20 fee to have my background checked to be able to volunteer at your school. There are just 17 days left of you being a kindergartner.
I missed so much.
After being so ingrained at your preschool and highly involved for two years straight, I guess I dropped the ball on your foray into elementary school. At times, I wonder if I did it intentionally. To give you that space, the room for you to have something all your own. Sure, I was there for ice cream socials, lunches, family nights. And I swear I never forgot to pick you up- never, not one time!
A note came home yesterday stating the need for parental support for a litany of things these last few weeks. You can bet your ass I still have my background check form from SEPTEMBER filled out so I'll be there. The Dad asked why I am even bothering at this point.
Because of that little face up there. It still doesn't take too much to make her day. A new cardboard box to decorate, a whole cantaloupe. Finding her parents' faces in a sea of them.
I'll be there.