Going for Preschool Mom of the Year.

On Friday Reilly Kate's teacher asked us to bring pictures of "community helpers" cut from magazines to school on Monday. Without even making a note of it in my day planner, I committed the task to memory. This one I would not forget. After all, I was kind of excited about this project as I knew there'd be plenty of fire fighters, police officers, doctors, and soldiers brought in but I thought I could explain to RK some other types of people who help the community. As we don't have any magazines other than The Economist, Foreign Affairs, and The American Prospect laying about the house, I used Google and found images of whatever Reilly Kate and I discussed: yes, a fire fighter and a police officer, but also a midwife, a priest (huh, and I just by chance choose a picture of a female priest with the Eucharist), a volunteer at a soup kitchen, Steve Irwin (conservationist!), and Habitat for Humanity volunteers.

Despite running ten minutes late, I took the time to write down what each picture was just so it was clear then put them in a little folder. I dragged the children downstairs, threw them into their carseats, and sped through Seoul like a toothless hillbilly in a Nascar race. We arrived just in time.

As we walked through the door, Reilly Kate proudly presented her teacher with the folder of pictures. Miss Jenny opened the folder and excitedly told me that I was the only mom to remember the pictures. The only one!!! I shot my arms up like a football player at the goal line.

"Yes!" I cried. "Yes!! I never remember these things. I never remember anything. But I remembered this one. I was the only one who remembered? Really?"

Miss Jenny nodded, a huge smile on her face.

Again, a little quieter this time, "Yes!"

Then Miss Jenny started reading aloud all the pictures that we brought in.

"Habitat for Humanity? Yes. Good. Okay. What's this? Oh, yes, a soup kitchen. Uh, and a priest. Ummm... yes. Oh, these are good. Thank you. Thank you for remembering."

I turned around, beaming from ear to ear. One might even say I was glowing. Until. I realized all the other moms within earshot were glaring at me. I'd thrown the curve. By not fucking up, I'd fucked up. I really wanted to stick my tongue out at them and say, "Bite me." But I refrained. Instead I went out to my minivan and at Andrea's suggestion, cranked up Volvo Driving Soccer Mom.

I just can't win.