Diary of Shame

I was late picking up my daughter and her friend from preschool. It was 12:11. I said "I'm sorry I'm late, I should have left earlier" (taking a cue from an article I'd just read about excuses versus explanations and blame versus accountability--yay me!) Teacher said "Is there something that makes it hard for you to get here on time?"

I felt a warm flush crawling up my face and my heart sinking until its place in my chest was replaced with a hollowness. I thought, "she hates me, I'm so broken I can't even pick up my daughter on time." And then I wondered if I've ever been on time...I know I'm not usually the first and not always the last. I thought, I'm usually pulling up at 12:05 and if ever I'm later that 12:10, I pay the late fee as stipulated in the disclosure document, which I hate to admit has happened about once a month.

Circles

I'm pregnant.

*sigh*


It's not that I'm disappointed or ungrateful. It's just. A. Heavy. Load.