Fail 1 - Somehow I have turned into the crazy, over-scheduling parent I swore I would never be. I decided that two activities per week outside of school was plenty. Then swimming lessons started.
That's not an activity, I think to myself. It's water safety! Sign 'em up! (Why I, a swim instructor, need swim lessons for my kids in an entirely different post.) So I signed them both up for lessons.
Then soccer season happened. The practices were scheduled for Tuesdays and Thursdays - the same days as swimming lessons. Blah. For the first time ever, I wasn't going to be able to cover the kids' schedules on my own. Three out of four weeks per month this is no big deal. T will grumble, but step up and do half of the ferrying. My awesome
During March, Z was sick for the first week of lessons, so I postponed her lessons until April. Tuesday was Z's first day for swim lessons. Soccer practice is from \
6:15 to 7:00. Swim lessons start at 7:10 across town. I figured we'd leave practice at 6:50 and make it easily. No sweat, right?
The moms on our new team are big fun. I was taking shirt orders and chitty-chatting and completely lost track of time. By the time I checked my watch, it was 7:15. Holy cow! I jumped up, grabbed our stuff and ran(!) to the car. I made poor Z change into her swimsuit in the car. A difficult feat with a seat belt on!
By the time we got to the Y and fought the crazy parking, it was 7:33. As we skidded into the pool area the little teen-aged head lifeguard looked a me and said, "Really?" Z was unphased. She jumped in for the last five minutes of class and was happy as a clam. When class was over the teacher said, very kindly, "You do know when class starts, right?"
I hung my head and mumbled something about scrimmages and doing better next time.
Nothing like teenaged disdain to make you feel like a stellar parent!
Fail 2 - Chica got a sewing machine recently and we have been making coordinating dresses for the girls. I just finished the second one and Z was super excited to wear it to school. When she put it on, I noticed that the arm holes seemed a little big. She's in kindergarten, I think to myself. How big a deal could it be?
At 11:15 I get a call from the school. "Mrs. C? Z's dress doesn't meet the dress code. You need to bring her a t-shirt to wear under it or a change of clothes."