Good mom/Bad mom

Every now and then, I find myself a unique position, a position from which I can choose to be the Good Mom or the Bad Mom.

Let me set the scene. My daughter is in the school play, and this weekend is the production. Practice has been running late this week. Very late. Couple that with the time change, and we aren’t seeing much daylight these days. The other night, I went to pick her up, but she needed money for her cast t-shirt, something we hadn’t paid for when we ordered it because I always think I might have more money next month.

She had reminded me via text after school to bring money, so I texted her from home before I left. “How much?” She texted me back with the information.

When I arrived at school, she sent me another text: Are you here?

Me: Yes

Her: Can you come in to pay?

Me: Can you come out? I can’t park here.

And so, she came out. It was dark, and all mini-vans look generally the same in the dark, right? She came running out the door, took one second to get her bearings, and ran off toward a mini-van. But not my mini-van. Nope. She ran off toward the first mini-van that looked like ours.

There I was, suspended in that moment where I was watching her run. Away from me. Toward the vehicle of who-know-whose-parent. Do I call to her? Do I let her open the other car door? I hesitated. It would be humorous, both for me and for the other parent, if she actually opened the door of the other car.

I rolled down my window, still uncertain, pausing. But then, as she reached for the door handle, I called to her. In that split second, I chose to be the Good Mom rather than the Bad Mom. Oh, to be the Bad Mom just once. We would have laughed about that for years to come (but not right away….)


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