Why I'm still worried about DHS coming for me kid

Admitting to the fact that we're not above bringing adult beverages to our kid's sporting events is just one thing on the long list of reasons why I'm a pretty sucky parent.

Believe me, it is a LONG list.

But I think I'm getting better at pretending like I'm a decent parent ... kinda like I play one on TV, so people shouldn't fear my skills at keeping kids alive. But like wearing clothes of sugar and gum paste, as soon as I start to move, the facade crumbles.

Mar and I walked over to her tennis lesson last night. Because I've grown resistant to carrying a purse all the time (which is why I lost my ID and debit card a couple weeks ago), I had the dog's leash in one hand and a water bottle in the other. In my front pocket was my iPod and my camera was in my back pocket.

So when I wanted to take a picture I had to do something with the bottle and leash. The bottle got left on the bleachers, the leash was tucked under my foot.

I snapped a few pictures.

Just so you know, around 7:00 on long spring evenings, the light can be gorgeous.
Then I wanted to listen to my iPod.

Camera gets tucked back into my pocket, water bottle tossed aside, dog told to sit and stay "or else." Then I begin the process of unwinding the iPod headphones, queue up the music, try to get those earbud things to stay in my ears and then ... up walked Bill and Greg freshly stinky from sticky pucky (I tried to find the entry where I defined sticky pucky but I couldn't find it and it's almost lunch time so just know that sticky pucky is a time hockey players can go skate and hit things with their sticks or something.)

Then Mar's lesson was over.

Whoops. I forgot to watch the lesson. So when Bill asked me how she did, I hedges, "Um, she totally hit the ball."

Yep, that's me, best mom ever (not). That should be an actual award ... the Best Mom Ever (NOT!) Award.

I'd win it every year.

But because I like tennis and my guilt over spending an hour fumbling with my stupidity led me to rummage around until I found the tennis racket I used to play in high school 20 years ago (gah!). And Margaret even let me show her a couple of things after her lesson last night.

OK, maybe I'm not the worst mother ever, maybe I just play her on TV.