Worst Mom Ever

Seriously.

The kids are for sure thinking right about now of trading me in for pretty much any other mom in the area. I’m sure they have a couple picked out and wouldn’t even care about being separated from each other as long as they had a more normal life.

I’ve had a few moments in my parenting history worthy of not remembering.

There was the time we met at a friends’ pool when the boys were really young. I’d never heard of Swim Diapers before. I had fun bathing trunks for them that Joe picked out. Truth be told, I would have probably let them swim naked.

Don’t they do that in Europe? Or is it Africa? Or Brazil? Anyway, seems more laid back and kind of even sophisticated in an unexpected way.

I figured they’d just tell me when they had to go to the bathroom.

There was also the Acorn Hat Hunting Incident.

Leo and were in a Mommies and Me program at a local nursery school and the first day they said to put your name down and a trip you’d take recently.

I thought about it and thought how fun, I have a great idea! We’d spent the morning looking for acorns and decided the tops kind of looked like hats so we just collected those. So I wrote down our names and Acorn Hat Hunting.

Here’s the real kicker. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, thought this was a really fun creative answer. Not “different” or “interesting” or slightly spooky.

Seriously.

But, in both scenarios the boys were too young to have caused permanent therapy-worthy damage.

Okay, I am avoiding the situation that happened this morning. Perhaps it is more of an incident or event. I’m actually pretty sure the boys would describe it as a full-on catastrophe.

They had their first day of golf camp. We are not a golfing family. We do do a variety of children friendly activities like swim and play tennis but we also play bocce, go to museums a lot and well, other stuff like test out different green juicing options.

Anyway, it is their first time golfing, ever.

We don’t even know if they’ll like it, so we obviously didn’t buy them gear.

I tell them shorts and a t-shirt. I DO consider making them wear a collared shirt but I don’t want them to be embarrassed when they get there and all the other kids are in t-shirts.

We have a history with overdressing.

So, I am the cool mom. And I let them wear lacrosse shirts and Under Armour t-shirts with a tennis hat and sunglasses. I remember juice pouches and granola bars in case they get hungry AND sunscreen. But I forget the bag.

So I yell to Finn from the car to grab whatever small bag is there. He does. The only one in the basement right there was the vintage Minion Backpack from first grade.

I put all their stuff in it. Leo looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“The Minion backpack? Seriously? I’m not carrying it.”

Leo throws it in the backseat to Finn.

“I’m not carrying it. Mom you didn’t say it was for us!” Finn replies.

We don’t have time to get another one.

“It’s kind of retro, isn’t it?” I ask, knowing full well it isn’t. I also know as we pull out of the driveway that we DO have time for something this important. But, I don’t stop. My fear of being late ends up overwhelming all other thigns.

I definitely need to get a handle on this.

We drive and arrive. There are several boys in the parking lot who look like they are taking the camp. I start getting excited for Leo and Finn, except I notice as I out the car in park and look in the rearview mirror, that they all have golf clubs, and gloves, and shoes and outfits. Hmmm.

Surely there are plenty of others who don’t I thought.

I tell the boys to leave the backpackin the car. They can wait four hours till I ick them up. I consider that water sure would be nice but probably not at the expense of the Minion embarrassment.

I look around the car. My handbag? A doggie poop bag?

Okay, no. So, they won’t have water or food.

But at least they won’t have the full-out loser backpack.

Joe would have them fully outfitted with water bottles and a cool backpack. I feel fairly poorly. But I can’t bring the first day good energy down.

We walk over to where all the other kids are. Every single one of them, bar none, has full gear. Leo looks at me and says I can’t believe we are the ONLY ones who don’t have clubs.

How are we even going to play?

Leo and Finn both loom down.

I introduce myself to the very young instructor. He looks barely out of middle school. I say we it’s our first time. We are excited to be here but don’t have clubs.

In my defense, which I realize at this point is fairly weak, there was a box to check on the registration forms indicating whether or not your children had clubs. And it did say if not they had clubs that could be borrowed.

They didn’t say, but your children will be the big dorky losers.

“They can borrow clubs,” the boy instructor says, looking supportive yet surprised and the slightest bit disapproving.

I DO have attributes as a mom.

None of them particularly useful for 8 and 10 year old boys. But I DO have a few.

For instance, poetry. I read them poetry. And who doesn’t love a good mindful awareness meditation? AND… wait for it… summer s’mores in the outdoor fireplace roasted over barely lit logs because the rose of Sharon behind it is about to go up in smoke.

Let’s just say I don’t excel at the finer, more logic-based points of parenting.

I dropped them at 9. It is now 10:27. I am planning on getting there early so they don’t try to go home with some more culturally-adjusted mom.