Am I *That* Mother?

After the kids came down off of their sugar highs last night and T and I packed them away to bed at a very late hour, we had an "oh, shit" moment.

You see, a few days ago my three year old had come home with a note from pre-school and a cardboard feather. His first homework. We were to let him decorate the feather in any way he'd like, with art materials, pens, markers or whatever and then send it back to school with him on November 1st.

T and I at 10:30 pm last night: "November 1st? Holy shit! That's tomorrow!"

In our defense, we aren't complete slackers. Hollis came home with the feather on Tuesday. I was out of town Tuesday (so it didn't happen), leaving one night - Halloween. Of course we forgot, so it's not like I can say we chose Halloween over a cardboard feather but still, it's not like we had a lot of notice.

I was all for sending a note back to his teacher explaining that I had been out of town. I'm not opposed to pretending my husband is an idiot who can't be trusted to supervise the coloring and gluing of a feather when it serves my purpose. T wasn't opposed either. (He plays stupid when it suits him too.) But then we read in the note that the children were to share their feathers during circle time and explain how they decorated them. My husband looked at me with these big, sad puppy dog eyes and said that we couldn't let Hollis be the only one without a feather.

Sigh.

Damn it. T was right.

So at 10:30 at night, I dragged my butt upstairs and retrieved some materials from the area of my bedroom affectionately known as Crafting Mecca. Here lie all the fun markers, papers, stickers, scissors, glitter, and ribbons that mean Mommy won't let H&H touch because some day she may get off her butt and actually finish those scrapbooks.

And yes, T and I decorated Hollis's goddamn cardboard feather.

The next morning, T loaded the kids up to take them to daycare, gave Hollis the cardboard feather (now artfully decorated with Hollis's name, some ribbon, any many buttons) and two of my glitter pens and let him go to town. We figured this way we could say that Hollis had actually decorated the feather. Of course, Hollis took one look at it and asked "Did Mommy do this?" T, apparently thinking that three years old = idiot said, "You did it, Hollis." Hollis replied with a knowing, "No, Mommy did this!"

Hollis then merrily scribbled away on his feather and even rearranged some of the buttons. But we know he totally narced on us during circle time. I can almost hear him telling his teacher and all his classmates about how Mommy and Daddy decorated his feather in buttons and ribbon.

I'm not sure what's worse: actually doing my three year old's homework for him or getting caught in the process.

Ouch.

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Pundit Mom, my favorite psychic cheerleader, nominated this post for a Perfect Post award. It meant a lot to me because that post, more than any of my more recent posts, explains a lot about me. I'm never more vulnerable than when I open up all my squishy parts for all of you to see. Joanne, I love you to death, babe. When you come visit, I promise to protect you from my ghost.