I've thought about being a good mom, a cool mom, a smart mom, a sharp mom. . .and most of the time, I feel good about what I do. Today is Halloween, and for the last few weeks I've planned to dress up Garcon and send him to day care with his little devil outfit. It's not an overly done costume, but instead fits like a little sleeper and has a horned hood and little tail. The feet are not cloven - that would probably be one too many evil touches for a baby's outfit.
As I drove to day care today, I realized that Garcon was wearing everyday clothes. I completely forgot about my dress-up plan for him. When DH changed him out of his sleeper and into dry diaper and clothes, it didn't occur to me that I'd considered the devil outfit, even though we'd already remarked about the trick-or-treaters coming this evening, and so forth.
Driving to day care, I felt bad. I felt like the kid whose mom didn't get it. The kid of the working mom who was too busy to think about those things. It was a familiar feeling. And I still hate it.
