David's class is excused for the day at 3:05, on the dot, every afternoon. About twice a week, he attends after-school enrichment classes which, at any given time, may include tap dancing, computers, art, or music. On the days in which no after school activities are planned, he has the option of staying at the appropriately named "Stay Late" program, where kids can hang out, complete their homework, read, and play until the parents come and pick them up. I try, at least once a week, to get him by 3:05 so that we can have some down time together, or so that he can just go home and play (and I can nap).
The "Stay Late" option has become quite a God-send to us, now that our back-up arrangements for getting the kids from school have been decreased by 50%. On most days when I plan for David to hang out at school beyond 3:05, he and I usually discuss it ahead of time. I emphasize the word "usually" here, because there are also the occasions when the topic doesn't come up, and I just assume that he'll be cool with staying on campus a bit.
Sometimes this assumption is correct, and sometimes it ends in an epic fail. I'm just never quite sure what reaction I will get from him on those days when we haven't pre-briefed our after-school plans.
On some days, he will greet me with a merry smile, engrossed in either a game of Checkers, Battleship, or Sorry with one of the after-school workers, and will beg for five or ten more minutes to finish his game. On other days, he'll look at me forlornly as I walk into the library, and say, "Not to be mean, but why are you late?" With those big green eyes, long eyelashes, and sweet face looking up at me, this is usually an instant guilt-producer.
Usually, we're able to settle the matter rather quickly, with my reminding him that sometimes I just assume he's a big enough boy to be okay with staying after school for a bit, even if we haven't discussed it in advance. If time permits, a trip to Baskin-Robbins is usually quite helpful in negotiations.
Alas, yesterday's communications went down the toilet. On Monday, David happily agreed to stay at the "Stay Late" program, but yesterday was one of those days were we didn't mention it ahead of time. My assumptions that he'd go with the flow were mistaken. An additional snafu added into the equation was that my cell phone battery had conked out somewhere around noon, so I didn't hear any phone calls all afternoon.
I arrived at David's school just before 5:00 p.m., and found him playing in the library. His first words to me were a cheerful, "Mommy? Can we play Checkers?"
"Oh, dear. Sorry, sweetie. We need to go pick up sister," I replied. I signed him out, he grabbed his book bag and sweater, and we headed to the car.
Then, it started. "Mommy, not to be mean but ... why did you pick me up late?"
"David, sweetie, I assumed that you'd just be okay with heading over to extension after school today."
"But we didn't talk about it this morning," he said, with a not-so-subtle whine.
I began to fume, feeling at once impatient with his impatience and awful for possibly acting as though I'd forgotten all about him.
My response to him wasn't stellar: "Well, I'm sorry I'm an imperfect mother." We both marinated in silent frustration until we got to Elizabeth's school and picked her up. Luckily for us, she was in a great mood.
When the three of us got back to the car, and before I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that my now-charged phone was working, and that I had three voice mail messages. The first was from my mom, who had nothing more to report than that her favorite Hallmark store in Yorba Linda had closed down. The second and third messages were from one of the very kind ladies in the front office at David's school.
The first: "Hi, Janel ... it's 3:30 and just wanted to check in with you. David is a little concerned that you're not here. If we don't see you in a few minutes I'll send him over to Extended Care."
And then, the second: "Hi, Janel ... just in case you haven't picked up David yet, I just wanted to let you know that David is in the Extended Care classroom..."
Well, that settled it. I was officially a bad mother. I'm sure I wouldn't have felt so badly had this been my first infraction. However, I've received such voice mail messages before from the wonderful Foothill staff, reminding me that my panicked kid is wondering why he'd been abandoned.
So, this afternoon, I composed a brief email to the lady who left me the messages. It went something like this:
"Hi, ____ (I'll leave names out to protect the innocent):
"I wanted to let you know that I finally received the two voice mail messages you left for me yesterday afternoon. My cell phone battery conked out, and so I was unable to retrieve messages until about 7:00 p.m. I am so sorry to have missed your two calls, especially as they were referring to my panicked little guy.
"I apologize for yesterday's confusion. I assumed that David and I had agreed that he would stay after school for a bit in Extension, but I learned that we had not, in fact, discussed this ahead of time. I feel very badly for this, not only in that it prompted your having to leave unanswered messages, but for once again dropping the ball on my end.
"David does have extension classes today and tomorrow, so I think we're all set. At least until Friday.
"With thanks (and apologies) again,
Janel Hastings (Flaky mommy to #125)"
(note: 125 is David's "check out" number).
And her gracious reply reminded me once again how I am always so impressed and awed by the amazing staff at Foothill:
"Oh, how I remember being a working mother of a child the age of David. Please, don't ever apologize. Our plan is that if you are not here by 3:30 P.M., he automatically should be sent to "stay late." Someone (I don't remember who) brought him in and asked if I could call mom. When I saw his face, how could I say no. Moving forward, whether you plan it or not, if you are running late, don't worry as he will be sent to stay late. I explained to David that moms cannot always walk out of work and that he is surrounded by friends. He even admitted that I am one of his friends, which touched my heart.
Promise me no guilt trips; he is in good hands."
After breathing a huge sigh of relief, I responded:
"Thank you for the sweet note. I promise to go easy on the self-inflicted guilt trips. Well, at least I'll try!
"It's a plan: if I am not there by 3:30, he should be merrily on his way to extension. I will also confirm that with him just to be sure. I know for a fact that he actually loves hanging out after school. He feels incredibly productive and independent getting his homework done, and loves playing board games in the library with his friends once his work is done. There have been many times I've picked him up in "The Circle" at 3:05, only to find him looking a bit disappointed, and asking, "can I stay?"
"You're absolutely right that he's in good hands. Wonderful hands, in fact. That's why we love the school so much. And of course you are his friend, and a friend to the entire Hastings clan, at that!
"Many thanks again for your kindness. I needed that!
Yours,
Janel"
Indeed, my sweet David is in wonderful hands at his phenomenal school. It takes a village, and I'm grateful that I have one!
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