I knew today would be a race against the clock. With a trip to the airport to drop off her dad, I had to hustle to get my daughter to school before 12:35. I managed to pull it off at 12:32, and I felt a surge of pride.
After that, I spent two hours tidying the house, enjoying the peacefulness interrupted only by my baby’s soft coos. Just as I was getting into a groove, my phone rang at 2:35. I glanced at the caller ID and didn’t recognize the number, so I let it ring. I often let unknown calls go to voicemail because my ringtone, “Anastasia” by A Silent Film, makes me want to dance. I resumed singing to my baby and went back to my chores.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again—same number. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: could it be the school calling about my daughter? She hadn’t felt well yesterday, but I thought she was fine.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hi, is this Jamie?”
“Yes.”
“This is Sarah from Elementary School. Your daughter is here, waiting for you. Today is a common day, so school let out at 2:15.”
My heart sank. “Oh no! I’m on my way!”
I hung up, rushed to get the baby in her car seat, and cursed every slow car on the road as I sped toward the school. I imagined my daughter sitting in the office, head hung low, swinging her feet, utterly heartbroken that I had forgotten her.
When I arrived at the school, I quickly slung the baby onto my hip and hurried to the office. To my surprise, I found my daughter happily helping the office staff clean, looking more engaged than I had anticipated.
After a brief moment of confusion, I rushed over and scooped her into a hug. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“Yep!” she replied, finishing up with a chair and proudly showing me her drawings for the office staff.
“She’s quite the artist,” Sarah said with a smile. “Don’t worry; you’re not the only parent who forgot today was a common day.”
“Common day? What does that even mean? I’m still getting used to this whole school thing,” I admitted.
“It’s an early dismissal day for parent-teacher conferences. The next one will be in February,” Sarah explained.
Note to self: remember to pick her up early in February. “Did we receive an email about this?”
“Yes, the principal sent one out recently.”
Right, the one email I didn’t bother to read because the subject line said “Parent-Teacher Conferences,” and I had already been informed multiple times that kindergarteners wouldn’t have conferences. Great.
And then I noticed it—the bright yellow note pinned to my daughter’s shirt. I certainly knew it was October 8th. There it was, circled in bold, the time she needed to be picked up from school, as if I didn’t already know she was a PM student. Clearly, the school didn’t trust me at all.
Wait, school started an hour earlier today? My proud moment of getting her to school on time was actually a total fail. #momfail.
And that note pinned to her shirt? Apparently, it wasn’t embarrassing enough to forget when to pick her up and receive a phone call—one that I initially ignored—about her being in the office and cleaning.
I understand why they pin it to her shirt; if they put notes in her backpack, I’d never see them. That’s why I get emails. At least they didn’t circle it in red ink.
For more insights on navigating life as a parent, check out this resource on home insemination.
In summary, I learned that being a parent can come with its fair share of mishaps, like forgetting school schedules. Thankfully, I’m not alone in this journey, and knowing others share similar experiences helps.
Keyphrase: kindergartner school pickup
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