Most parenting blogs and parent’s Facebook pages are plastered with boastful posts about the author’s children. Mine included. It’s mom-nature to brag about our biggest accomplishments, and in parenting that’s our children! Sometimes though, even the most stellar of moms (and dads) can have what I refer to as an “Epic Mom Fail”. It happens. While the Pinterest following moms are posting pictures of their latest and greatest home/handmade DIY creations with laughing, clean and dressed children in the background, I’m in my kitchen cursing at exploded juice boxes, cleaning up cat vomit (hey – cat vomit creations! It could be the next big Pinterest thing!) and throwing semi-clean clothing at children who are wandering around aimlessly making our house look like the set of “The Walking Dead”. Those moments. But that’s just everyday life. Some moments, are just epic. Epic Mom Fails.
For example, before the end of this past school year, my 13 year old daughter had brought home a permission slip to go on a field trip to a local historic site. I was elated for her! What a chance to learn, hands on, about the significance of our local history! She was about as thrilled as the cat was when I shaved her with the buzz clippers (another story, another time). She spent three days wailing, “WHY do I have to gooooooooooooo? It’s going to be so boringgggggggggg.” Because making one and two syllable words longer is an art form that teenagers have perfected. Because one of them at one point in time tried it and got their way and went back to the colony to spread the word about this useful, obnoxious tactic in the age old war of parent versus teen. In fact, somewhere out there is a teenager, right this very minute, halfway through the sentence “I don’t want to” or “You can’t make me” – a sentence that he or she began six months ago. At any rate, after much discussion about how Mom’s can’t just write notes to excuse their children from life simply because they don’t want to do something, or at the very least HER mom won’t, she finally agreed to go, begrudgingly but agreed to nonetheless. After two long weeks of sullen moods and glares from across the kitchen table at the slightest mention of the words “field” or “trip”, I asked my daughter if she was bringing or buying lunch at school the next day.
“Oh, I’m not going to school tomorrow” she replied, loftily.
“I’m not going to school tomorrow” she said. “No one will be there”.
(Insert panicked mother who believes that she completely forgot a school holiday).
“Really? You guys have a day off tomorrow? Ok. That’s cool”. Where the heck did I put that school calendar?!?
“Ok. What’s going on?” I demand and I assume the cut-the-crap stance, arms folded over my chest, narrowed eyes, feet planted firmly on the ground.
“It’s the field trip tomorrow.” She said.
“Oh. The field trip we discussed and agreed that you are going on because Mom doesn’t write notes to excuse you from every little thing you don’t ‘feel like’ doing?” I inquired. “Yeah, you’re going to that”.
“Yeah. That one. You never signed the permission slip and it was due last week”. She smirked.
She had me. The permission slip was still hanging from the bulletin board, gently swaying in the breeze. Taunting me. Gently calling out “youuuuuu gotttt ownedddddddddd. By a 13 year oldddddddd”.
Epic. Mom. Fail.