Worst Mother In the World: Confirmed

So today I have this massive guilt hangover that no amount of malted milk robin’s eggs will assuage. See, this morning I worked over my daughter, to my ultimate shame.

First off, let me say that I never plan this kind of thing, which is probably the reason I end up getting myself in these predicaments. Be that as it may, this morning I’m driving my kids to school when DS reminds me that he has a field trip and is supposed to bring lunch. I have completely forgotten said field trip. I have not packed him a lunch. There’s no way I can pack him a lunch, as I’m already skating on the line between on time and heinously late (there is no middle ground in my neck of the woods), there are no groceries in our house, and our local Publix doesn’t open for another fifteen minutes.

DD, however, has a lunchbox on her lap. Earlier this week, we’d made a speed run to the grocery store to fix dinner and picked up a couple of Lunchables. DS ate his the next day. DD saved hers for Friday. DD now has a lunch, a bottle of water, and an apple in her purple-butterflied lunchbox. DS has a bottle of water and no way to get lunch, as this is a walking field trip with no other sources of food.

So I click into bargaining mode. I apologize for screwing up my motherly responsibilities yet again and then ask my daughter nicely if she would be willing to let her brother have the Lunchable, as she would be in the school and have access to the cafeteria. DD is a cheerful, loving soul.

DD says, very politely, “No.”

Oh, crap. I explain again that this is a temporary measure and that I will make it up to her with multiple Lunchable selections for next week. Still “No.”

That’s when Evil Mom pops out and says, “You look your brother in the eye and explain that he will go hungry today because you are too selfish to SHARE your lunch with him.” (Oh, God, my kids will be in therapy foreeeeeeeeeeeever!!!)

She actually says, “I’m sorry, G…”

And I bark, “Look him in the EYE!”

Her lower lip quivers. I am going to hell for sure.

I pour on yet more guilt–what’s the use of guilt if you can’t wallow in it, right?–and she finally cracks and admits that it’s not the Lunchable she’s attached to, but the bottle of water and the apple she added. No problem–keep the water and apple. Just let me have the Lunchable.

She ends up handing it over. Everyone eats. No one appears to have lasting psychological damage–at the present. Except me.

I’ll be borrowing that cat-‘o-nine-tails now, Rev. Dimmesdale.