Only bad moms forget things.

I can still remember the note sent home, when my daughter was in kindergarten: “If you’d like a yearbook, please send in $15.”

Well, that’s stupid, why do kindergartners need a yearbook? I’m not doing that.

The end of the year rolled around and all of the kids have a year book, except my daughter. FOMO (fear of missing out) immediately sets in. Hell, I didn’t even know I’d miss a yearbook for my kindergartner. Shit.

And now regret.

And after regret, the panic spiral happens quickly. Welcome to the negative affirmations swirling around in my head, “Sheesh, you’re such a bad mom. Why didn’t you just pay the $15 for a yearbook? It’s just a yearbook. It was only $15.”

So I emailed the school, because surely they order extras of those and I can get one right away.

“I’m sorry, we don’t order any extras.”

Fear. Regret. Panic. Then anger.

It’s just a yearbook. A kindergarten yearbook. Why is this such a big deal?! And why am I so angry?

Because only a bad mom choses money over nostalgia. 🤦‍♀️

Shit. I’ll fix this. I have to fix this. I have to be a good mom again. So I emailed back. “Can I contact the place that makes the yearbooks? Maybe I can buy one from them?”

Desperation. This is where I was now.

My first born needed all of her yearbooks: Kindergarten through 12th grade. I was gonna get that damn yearbook! I was willing to even pay extra at this point to have them reprint the damn thing. Shit I was so desperate.

As luck would have it, the yearbook place had an extra one, and it was mine. All mine.

Five years ago I swore I’d never make that mistake again! And I hadn’t.

Until now. Welcome to 5th Grade.

“Mom, I saw the list of kids names on the wall, who were signed up for yearbooks, but my name wasn’t on the list.”

I cycled so quickly through the emotions, I barely remember fear, regret, panic or anger. I went straight into denial and blaming. “I know I sent that check in! Maybe someone lost the check?”

Only bad moms forget things. Especially yearbooks.