The Pit of Mom Guilt
Last week I promised my girls that I would attend the Thanksgiving Feast at their school. As a working mom, this was a big promise. A Mom Promise. It meant that I had to adjust my schedule at school and take the afternoon off, but lunch with my daughters at school is a rare treat and worth the extra effort. I'm their Mom, and Moms make promises. And Moms mess up. I got the date wrong. I saw "Friday" on the paper that was sent home, so I programmed Friday into my mind. But the Feast was actually on Thursday (Friday was the RSVP deadline), and Thursday wasn't possible for me. I was going to miss the Feast after I had already made a promise. After some tears and disappointment, I explained to the girls that I would still be there on Friday--bearing Chic-Fil-A as a peace offering. Ever the optimist, I explained that if I'd been able to go to the Feast, then we would have eaten the cafeteria food (which I'm sure is delicious, and I'm sorry I missed it.) But...