Not Mother of the Year

I got the idea for this post after reading  this from the Dulwich Divorcee. 

Boy woke up complaining of an upset tummy.  After going through the usual triage list of ailments - are you hungry, do you have to poo,  I determined that he was just feeling nervous about his upcoming spelling quiz.  It was the first time he would have a "test", you know where you have to study and it's kind of official. 

While he was getting ready, I made a quick call to the teacher and left the message that Boy was feeling very nervous about his test and would probably claim that he had to be sick and would need to go to the washroom but he wasn't  sick and he didn't really have to throw up.  It was just nerves.

After much gurning and moaning,  Boy and I walked to the bus stop.  I was jollying him along, telling him that a lot of people get nervous and he had studied and knew the words so he'll do okay and he'll be fine when he gets there.  I kissed him good-bye and wished him luck and sent him to school and carried on with my day.

I got home from walking the dog to  the annoying beep of the answering machine. 

"This is The School calling.  Is it possible for you to come and pick Boy up?  He's been throwing up on the playground." 

Oh dear.  It gets worse.  Because I didn't answer the phone nor my cell phone (who takes their cell phone when walking the dog?  I do now),  they had to phone Granny (she's the emergency person) to come and get him.  Granny doesn't cope well with emergencies.

So not only did I force him go to school while feeling nauseous, he did end up barfing on the playground, no doubt with an audience of little toe rags, and I didn't even come to pick him up. 

Yup. Not Mother of the Year.