Another failed mommy badge

The Hubby left this morning for a month-long sail, after being away the week before. He felt rotten about missing Hallowe'en, but he was comforted by the fact that he managed to make it to Big I.'s father-child pumpkin-carving party last night.

Big I. has an absolutely wonderful kindergarten teacher. This same teacher taught A. two years ago, and she is a gem. Hallowe'en is a big time in her class; besides the pumpkin-carving party, she hosts a "Halowe'en Howl" for parents to attend, and then a class party.

The Howl was today, and it is a chance for the children to perfom some Hallowe'en songs for their mommies, daddies and the occasional grandparent. I. was very excited about it, and came home earlier this week clutching a handmade invitation for me. I looked into his sweet little face and had to say, "I'm so sorry, honey, but I can't go."

Work has been insane. Completely, utterly and absolutely insane. We seem to be inundated right now, and everyone is working flat out. Plus, several of my coworkers have been sick, and several more had bought tickets to the U2 concert in Vancouver. The office was half empty today, so the rest of us were running around, madly trying to do the work of two people at once. The whole week has been like this, so I knew there was no way I could miss most of a morning at work.

I work downtown, but our PMQ is about a 30-minute drive west of the city's core -- more like an hour at rush hour. To get to his Howl, I would have had to leave work at 10 a.m. to make it to the school, sit through the 30-minute party, then head immediately back to work, arriving back around noon (and that's with the van, not by bus.) Two hours to make a half hour party. I knew it just wasn't possible.

He was disappointed, but seemed to perk up when I suggested he invite V., the nanny, and his sister N. V., my saving grace in my working-parent hell, took meticulous video of the entire thing, which I sat down and watched in full just now. By the end, I was sobbing.

Big I., my boisterous, funny and fun-loving guy, just stands there during all the songs. No singing, no actions, no jumping and clapping. He actually turns his back on the teacher for several minutes and just stands there  with his head hanging down and his lip out. He missed me so much he didn't even want to participate.

When I got home, he told me he has enjoyed the Howl, but he also pointed out, "C.'s mommy was there. Her mommy made it to the Howl." C.'s mom is an at-home mother, you see.

My friend Karan invented the Failed Mommies Club awhile ago, for those mothers who just don't make the mommy grade nowadays (and so said mommies can get together now and then and drink wine.) I think I earned another Failed Mommy badge today for:

1. missing my son's Hallowe'en school event;
2. sending the nanny with a videocamera instead (and even having a nanny in the first place -- tut, tut!);
3. doing it on the day his father sailed for a month;
4. working a demanding career downtown instead of a mom job or (as the much smarter mommies do) keeping the demanding career but working from home; and
5. working so far from home that these sorts of events are sometimes impossible.

Never mind the homework I do with A. every night, or the fact that tonight I cooked a healthy meal, cleaned up, baked cookies with the kids for the actual Hallowe'en party tomorrow, made A. get a shower, made lunches and put all three kids to bed alone. No matter how super a mother you are, you are always a failure when you break your child's heart.