Just-Barely-in-Time-Mom

This morning I was driving to school, late to be a part of a school event I had hoped to attend more casually than loping across the field to find my daughter, hug her, and tell her I love her; tell her I can't stay because I have to go back to work; tell her I'm dropping off the check for gift wrap probably we don't need, and for an absurd $18 bottle of cinammon-roll-scented bath gel definitely we don't need (but secretly I do want).  Dropping the check in the nick of time, like I make or miss many school deadlines, just-barely-in-time mom.

Loping across the field, glad not to have been discovered texting (stoplight!) in my car, texting the children's father to see if he's learned anything about our son's party logistics do's and don'ts, because I have to reschedule the party...because I'll be traveling that day.  Because the client dug my stuff, man.

And what was I thinking when I scheduled the birthday party for late Friday afternoon?  I mean, my job is flexible, but did I think ahead?  Will I learn to think ahead?  Will I ever master this?  Will my son forgive me for rescheduling his birthday party?  Will he even care?  Is it anything new legos wouldn't solve?  I remember leaving my house one night when my daughter was two, and she was screaming, and I was going to drink wine with friends.  And then she got to me, of course, and I knelt down, and she said:  "TEE TOES!"  Really the loss she was mourning was the bag of cheetos under my arm. 

Loping across the field, watching 100  six- and seven- year- olds trying to fling stuffed frogs in to hula hoops twenty feet away.  Toss tiny balls in to tiny containers.  Toss rings around posts.  Trying to understand the goals and the rules and make their little bodies and minds do it right.   There was some discomfort of heat.  Some were competitive, some were tired.  Some were wandering off.  Some were running in unminding throngs.

And I got it, got something anyway.  Are these kids trying just as hard to be everything kids as we are trying to be everything parents?  And when we do "give up," throw our arms up in the air, when we do honor ourselves being exactly the parent we are, with a sense that that's the parent we are meant to be - does that somehow open our children's worlds to embrace themselves with such authentic confidence?  Oh I hope so.