A Note to My Children's Teachers

Last night was my sons' Back-to-School Night, the opportunity to meet their teachers for the first time, check out their classroom, put their school supplies away and see friends they haven't seen all summer. It's a lot of fun for everyone. And I forgot all about it!

Dear Miss G. and Miss You-Must-Be-A-Saint-Because-You're-Porter's-Teacher,

Although you probably think I am the WORST parent on the face of the planet, I assure you I am not. I'm sure Saddam Hussein and Jeffery Dahmer's parents were WAY worse.

Yes, it's true that we were in fact 45 minutes late to the Back-to-School night and that when we showed up I was a hot mess dragging my three kids, who were wearing not the cleanest shirts because I remembered Back-to-School night while in the middle of a spaghetti dinner. And yes, it's also true that I was sweating like a whore in church in the middle of August but in my defense, since summer began I've had a hard time knowing what day it is. That happens to even the good parents, right?

I promise you that I am typically very punctual, to the point of being annoyingly early. I also promise that I will bathe and dress my children in appropriate clothing from here on out. No more Crocs that the dog chewed up months ago, but we're still wearing because they are the fastest shoes my kids can put on.

Oh, and thanks for not recoiling in disgust when you picked that piece of spaghetti out of my hair.

Sincerely,