Mrs. Amazing

The important First-Day-Of-School (FDOS) has passed.

With its first-day outfits, hair dos, school supplies, shoes, and angst.

And pictures of the same.

And now we take stock.

To store away for the next FDOS . . .

My good friend, Betty (I do hope she doesn’t mind me calling her Betty!) has three kids of her own.

And she fosters babies.

Tiny ones.

I know. She’s my hero, too.

Her kids attend two different schools.

Neither within walking distance of their home.

Her FDOS takes planning: 

            1. Stay up till midnight, getting FDOS supplies sorted, labelled and stowed.

            2.Up at 6:00 AM.

            3. Shower and makeup.

            4. Babies (she has two) up and bathed and changed and fed.

            5. Kids up and dressed.

            6. Kids kitted out for FDOS.

            7. Kids in the car.

            8. Drop off kid #1.

            9. Drop off kid #2.

           10. Home again by 8:30.

           11. Have baby #2 ready for pick up by care worker at 8:32.

           12. And breathe.

See? Planning.

And she did it. All of it.

She’s supermom. Or the close earthly equivalent.

Feeling happily accomplished, she set her four-year-old to playing, parked baby #1 beside some toys and began to tidy the kitchen.

Then she opened the freezer.

And discovered the breakfast she had been going to feed her school kids.

No wonder she had managed to get everything done.

SHE HAD FORGOTTEN TO FEED HER FAMILY!!!

All sense of triumph drained away in an instant.

She felt horrible. She had sent her children to school with empty stomachs.

Okay, yes, they did have a good-sized morning snack.

And an even bigger lunch.

And throughout the summer, they had never wanted breakfast before 10:00 AM.

But still . . .

When Betty told me this story, we laughed.

Betty tells it well.

And hindsight is often really funny.

But it got me thinking. (I do that sometimes.)

About Betty’s to-do list for her FDOS.

And how she had done it. Almost.

It made me tired.

Yep. One breakfast out of the year forgotten . . .

I still think she’s amazing.