Big fat slacker parent

Until recently, I was in Shawn Joaquin's classroom daily. Each day I saw his joy at his first sighting of Cole and their tender goodbye - an embrace, followed by a gentle kiss on Shawn Joaquin's shoulder, Cole's eyes gently closed as if to say "goodbye, my sweet, goodbye". I saw which kids brought organic lunches, which ones had a Safeway sandwich and which ones eschewed lunch altogether and used their lunchera as merely a prop or a billboard for their latest pop cultural interest - Diego, Dora, Backyardigans or simply hemp. I was the first to sign up for the Halloween pot luck, did crafts in class for Shawn Joaquin's birthday, spent time planning his show-and-tell item on Fridays, affixed new photos in his lunchbox each week to surprise him and was the most adamant about teachers being present for drop off and parents being on time. I became a fixture at nearby parks and in the parking lot after drop off, a mom you could count on to watch your kid for five minutes while you ran into the school to ask a question or find a lost jacket. Then I returned to work and, ultimately, to my big fat slacker mom status.

Yesterday, only two short weeks after returning to work, I received a call from Shawn Joaquin's TA, the beloved Maria Jose.

Hi, did you know school gets out early today? In 5 minutes?

NO!

Yes, we had a little party with everyone for grandparents day and —

—we're on our way.

Gregg rushed to school to pick up Shawn Joaquin, leaving me home to deal with a client conference call and my growing angst. He arrived to find the parking lot filled with complete, multi generational families toting casserole dishes and happy children, along with handmade frames and a picture of a child who is actually loved and cared for at a higher level. When he entered the classroom, he found Shawn Joaquin sitting on the floor with only one other abandoned child, clearly another victim of slacker parenting. Later, when questioned, Shawn Joaquin was unable to even name or describe the child, leading me to believe that perhaps this was some homeless kid who had wandered into the room and thus reducing the count of slacker-parented kids to one and the need for tighter security to Code Red.

When Shawn Joaquin returned home, I learned there had been a pot luck and "lots and lots of peoples came with families and childrens and I had a GOOD time." While I was sick inside, I thought perhaps we had dodged a bullet and he had been so enthralled with the change of scene that our absence — and that of his grandparents, who find us geographically undesirable — had not been noticed. He happily ate a guilt-provided snack of leftover pizza and handed over his handmade picture frame with a grinning shot of him. I tried not to imagine each child handing over the gift to their loving families, while Shawn Joaquin sat in the corner talking to an imaginary dog or banging his head on the wall.

After a few minutes, he announced his desire to take a nap and made his way downstairs. As he stopped by my home office for last minute goodbyes, he asked a question.

Why you not come today? Because you love me?

I realized that quite often my rote answer to repeated questions is indeed "Because I love you." It's the answer for him as to why I cut the crusts off his sandwich, don't let him walk on the edge of the sidewalk, kiss him unexpectedly, give him an extra glass of milk, help him put his shoes on, buckle him into his car seat, read him Backyardigans for the billionth time, make him popcorn, raise my voice when he bolts out of the door and even why he gets Diego bubbles in the bath tub. But not even I, knowing that the answer could be easily accepted, could say "yes, I was not there because I love you" and hope that the nonsensical reply would pass through his unguarded gates.

Well, baby, I wasn't there because I was working and I —
— can I use big people toothpaste? I wanna brush my teeth. Where's Madelena? What Daddy doing now? Who made my bed? I...

And with that I realized that he was not yet on to my failings, had yet to realize my big fat slacker parent status, and that perhaps I had until the next big missed event before that would creep up on him. In the meantime, I will more studiously read parent emails and mark my calendar and hope that next time the one lone kid in the classroom without a parent is not mine and if we're all very lucky, actually does not exist at all.