I will not be winning any awards this year.

I forgot my 5 year old at school today. For an hour.

There are explanations and reasons that make sense. I have a history that shows I am a loving connected mother. But it doesn't matter.

Because when you realize that the reason your husband hasn't showed up with her yet is because you were supposed to get her, all you can think of is what a horrid failure you are and how you are not fit to be a parent.

I rush to her school. I can see her from the car, swinging carelessly. She is getting good at pumping her legs. A dozen or so other children are there for the after school program. Parents are standing around, picking up their children. Parents I know, parents who shop at my shop. Parents who are not an hour late picking up their children.

Baby girl stops swinging and watches me trudge through the pea gravel to kneel at the swing set. I'm crying. She asks why. I tell her I am so sorry I was late. I can't even say I forgot her. I didn't really. I never forget her. I just forgot it was my day to get her. She hugs me, tells me it is OK. That she was a little curious why she was still here, but that she had asked the after school teacher to call me and she was told I would get her when I could.

That makes me feel even worse. She rubs my tears and tells me she loves me. I cry even harder. I am crying now.

I am too ashamed of myself to even get good and angry at the school for not calling me. She could have been sitting alone on some bench, scared and wondering why she was forgotten. Instead they folded her into their afternoon and helped me not look like the epic failure I feel I am right now.

And yes. I know we have all been forgotten at some point in our childhood. It is part of life. But we all remember it. That feeling of being unsure, unloved and alone. At least for her there is that buffer of swings, and friends, and a special after school snack. Hopefully her memory will be less memorable. Hopefully I can get my shit together.