My not-so-lucky day

Last week Mabel performed the story “My Lucky Day” by Keiko Kasza for her school class for an outreach program of the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival, and was chosen to represent her grade in performing the story for a school assembly. She asked her teachers what time the assembly would be at, and was told 12:30 on Monday, and she passed this information on to me on Friday afternoon, after the school office had closed. Since we didn’t have any written notice, I tried to verify the time of the assembly and the only thing I could find on the school website was a “Character Trait” assembly scheduled for 10:00 AM. I didn’t think that could be the same thing, so I decided I’d have to trust the 12:30 time. I needed to take Hazel in for a bilirubin check on Monday anyway, so I asked a friend to watch Rose and Henry during lunch and planned to go to the assembly and then take Hazel for her labwork.

Monday morning I woke up typically groggy from having nursed Hazel several times in the night, but decided to go ahead and get my shower even though I had a couple hours until my friend was coming to babysit. I was half-dressed when Mabel called from school: the assembly was starting RIGHT THEN (it was 9:30,) and could I please come?

I thought that (considering that I’d given birth just 5 days earlier,) I probably shouldn’t even try, but I really didn’t want to let Mabel down. I finished dressing as quickly as I could, got Hazel into her car seat, and put Henry’s shoes on over his footed pajamas. Fortunately Rose dressed herself in a hurry once she heard where we were going (she’s not always so compliant.) We drove to the school, parked in the 15-minute parking in the front, and made our way to the gym — just in time to see the 5th-grader performing her story. I was wondering whether my blood pressure was through the roof, because it sure felt that way. Then the 6th-grader got up, so it looked like they’d gone from youngest to oldest. I turned around and whispered to a woman behind me, “Did the girl in the red shirt already tell her story?” She nodded and whispered back “This is the last one.” I turned my head back around, trying to hide my suddenly-sprung tears.

Fortunately Mabel didn’t seem too devastated when she found out we’d missed her performance, and I do think she appreciated that I had come. She was in a cheerful mood and said she had enjoyed telling her story. Mabel’s teachers were very apologetic; they’d been as surprised by the time of the assembly as I was and had simply been told wrong. I was able to drop off Henry and Rose at my mom’s house and take Hazel for her labwork, first going back home to get the lab order I’d forgotten to bring (I also forgot to bring the papers for Rose’s kindergarten registration that I’d missed when I was in labor last week, so I’ll have to make another trip to the school for that on another day.) My friend still came over at mid-day and fed Rose and Henry lunch and put them down for their naps, leaving me free to care for Hazel and catch my breath. I think all the running around did slow my recovery (I was exhausted the next day,) but I’ve been doing my best to take it very easy ever since then. So I guess it all worked out — other than that I’m still sad I missed Mabel’s performance.

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6 Responses to My not-so-lucky day

  1. Jenn says:

    Awww, I’m so sorry 😦

    Could Mabel maybe hold a special performance for all of you? I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige and the other kiddos would love it too.

  2. zstitches says:

    Thanks, Jenn.

    We’ve all seen her practice her story lots of times — I just wanted to see how she’d handle performing it in front of the whole school. (She got to be in the assembly two years ago, also, and handled it really well although it was scary for her.)

  3. Jason says:

    I read the synopsis of My Lucky Day. Are you subtly calling my grand-niece Hazel a pig??

  4. zstitches says:

    Hmm, I don’t know, Jason — I suppose I’m the loser in the story, but I hadn’t considered Hazel to be playing the role of the trickster.

    (Actually I blame the organizers of the assembly and their poor communication. And one of them is an acquaintance and she was at the assembly and I could have chatted with her afterward, but I had too much rancor in my cold and unforgiving heart, so I deliberately kept talking to Mabel’s teacher long enough to avoid greeting her while I was still feeling upset.) (I don’t think it’s wise to admit to things like this on a blog, though, is it?)

  5. UnkieJas says:

    “(I don’t think it’s wise to admit to things like this on a blog, though, is it?)”

    I’m certainly not the world’s greatest expert on discretion. I certainly do identify with harboring rancor. Sometimes I wisely express my feelings in the moment; sometimes I wisely wait until the furor calms; sometimes I store it seemingly forever; and sometimes I work it out later, weirdly.

    During church, as I actively work out my repentance, I sometimes review grudges I’m holding–like the bad cards in a poker hand.

  6. zstitches says:

    Yeah. I guess I don’t even know where the communication breakdown happened, and I think I can now just say it was a regrettable circumstance, without holding it against any one person.

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