I was supposed to be at lunch with my friend. A chance to catch up, chat about her book that's coming out next week - as exciting as a birth! I have birthday presents to give her.
Instead, the school called. Whenever I see that name come up on my cell screen, I know it's not going to be good news. Bump-thump, bump-thump, goes my heart. Sure enough, my little one's still ill and I'll have to go pick her up. Even though her fever's gone, she just doesn't have her energy level up yet.
Driving home in the car, I find out that she also stressed out when faced with a practice Language Arts test. "I think I'm not good at school anymore!" she confesses in a low voice. Only in third grade, and the pressure to excel on the class, school, district and state level tests is so intense that she is in tears over her perceived failure. She thinks she forgot how to learn in her two days of being home sick.
"Honey," I remind her, "it's just a test. You'll have lots of chances to practice and learn. They make them hard on purpose. But I guarantee, you're one of the top students; you're doing just fine."
She takes a deep breath and relaxes, her face opening into a small smile of reassurance.
"I bet it just seemed hard because you're still tired from being sick. Let's go home and rest."
And there you go. My lunch plans become taking-care-of-offspring plans. Same thing happened yesterday. It's all just part of the package, the deal I signed up for. Once again, I send up a fervent prayer of thanksgiving that I am blessed with such flexible work and proximity to my children's school. I'll be able to continue on with the next project on my list.
Too bad about the lunch. Indian food would have been nice.
But at least we can watch Charlie and Lola together at 11:30.
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