I fucked up last night.
So I thought I’d share this with you just in case you are beating yourself up over your own fuck up.
First of all, let me remind you of this:
Whether you have one kid or ten kids, whether this is your first kid or your last kid, whether you are a young mom or an old mom, whether you are single or married or divorced, whether you are fat or thin or tall or short or organized or disorganized…
WE ALL FUCK UP.
Okay. Back to my story.
Every night I coach the swim team. I coach three different practice groups from 5:00 – 8:00. Number 4, 5, 6, and 7 are in two of those groups.
Number 3 swims in a whole other group that practices at a different pool. He’s done at 6:30. Sometimes when his practice is finished, if he doesn’t have a lot of homework, he comes to where I am and plays basketball until I’m done coaching at 8:00 and then I bring him home with me.
On those nights when he wants to play basketball, I text my friend whose son swims with Number 3 and who is also his BFF, and she gives him a ride to the Y.
So last night Number 3 wanted to come play basketball after his practice.
I dropped him off at the pool and told him I’d see him later.
Then I totally forgot about him.
And I also totally forgot to text my friend.
I went to the pool and coached my practices.
Two-and-a-half hours later, Number 3 came walking onto the pool deck at 7:45.
As soon as I saw him, I realized what I had done. Or what I hadn’t done.
“Oh My God. I totally forgot about you. I’m so sorry,” I said to him.
He was actually very understanding about it.
He had called me a bunch of times, but I don’t take my phone out on deck with me when I’m coaching, so I didn’t see the calls.
Number 3 waited until the practice after his was done, and he got a ride to the Y then.
He was super bored and a little bummed that he missed out on playing basketball, but he was fine.
So we learned a couple things from this latest fuck up.
I was reminded that although Number 3 had to sit at the pool for over an hour and wait for someone to give him a ride, he survived. He’s not traumatized. Boredom never killed a kid.
I’m reminded to make sure I don’t wait until 5:00 to make sure driving arrangements are put in place.
I’m reminded to go easy on my kids and my husband when they mess up because it happens to all of us.
And I’m reminded that when I don’t point fingers, blame and get defensive, when I sincerely apologize (without adding a “but…” after), and when I take complete responsibility for my fuck up, my kids are pretty good about it.
Hopefully I’m teaching them a thing or two from this.
I know they are definitely teaching me.
When all is said and done, we are all a little bit wiser for having experienced this latest fuck up.
And in the end, it didn’t end up being such bad thing after all.