I wake to my husband\u2019s alarm and roll away as he attempts to steal a cuddle along with five minutes of snooze-time. While he\u2019s dressing, I mentally apologize for being greedy about sleep and verbally admit I forgot to pack his lunch. He\u2019ll have to spend money we don\u2019t have on soggy cafeteria green beans and chicken. Sorry, hubby.<\/p>\n
I try to catch some solo sleep, but hear my son stirring through the monitor. Instead of rushing to get him, I lie in bed and reach for the book-club novel on my nightstand, unread past the first two pages. Before I find my place, my son\u2019s sweet babbles turn into shouts. I shouldn\u2019t have left him so long. Sorry, book club. Sorry, son.<\/p>\n
Rolling out of bed, I trip over the dog and apologize, ostensibly for treating her like a rug \u2014 oh, and forgetting to let her out before bed \u2014 but really for allowing my son to claim affections once hers alone. I peek at the time on my cell phone and notice I\u2019ve missed a call from my sister on the West Coast. I remember I never replied to her last text pleading for advice on nursing her distractible baby. Sorry, puppy. Sorry, sis.<\/p>\n
I consider putting on my running clothes but instead grab pants only technically<\/i> not pajamas. The weight of the day is already on my shoulders as I slump down the hall. My students\u2019 essays should have been graded weeks ago. That means I\u2019ve no time to take my son to his grandparents\u2019 today like I said I would. It also means I\u2019ll miss my friend\u2019s birthday dinner. I already know my family\u2019s evening meal will be macaroni and a freezer vegetable.<\/p>\n
Really, everybody, I am so, so sorry.<\/p>\n
As I slowly open my son\u2019s bedroom door, I\u2019m startled. I\u2019m met not by tears or disappointment but by a squeal and a smile shining brighter than the morning sun through the window. The dog has followed me to his crib and is wagging her tail and licking my hand. I finally remember who I forgot to apologize to. I did the best I could yesterday, and I\u2019m doing the best I can today. Tomorrow, I\u2019ll try to do even better. My family loves me, my friends love me, and I love myself, even if I don\u2019t say it often. I resolve to stop apologizing. And when I forget my resolution before I reach the kitchen, I\u2019ll at least remember this: It\u2019s okay to pass out apologies, as long as I save one for myself.<\/p>\n
Sorry, me. You\u2019re doing just fine.<\/p>\n
Emily H. Moore makes jam, crochets, reads, jogs and gardens on Virginia\u2019s Eastern Shore. She\u2019s a proud wife to her best friend, mother of an 18-month-old boy and 10-year-old puppy, teacher of writing and literature for Virginia\u2019s Community College System, and member of the ESVA MOPS, a tiny group with a huge heart.<\/em><\/p>\n I wake to my husband\u2019s alarm and roll away as he attempts to steal a cuddle along with five minutes of snooze-time. While he\u2019s dressing, I mentally apologize for being greedy about sleep and verbally admit I forgot to pack his lunch. He\u2019ll have to spend money we don\u2019t have on soggy cafeteria green beans […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":88,"featured_media":13092,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","_seopress_robots_follow":"","_seopress_robots_imageindex":"","_seopress_robots_snippet":"","_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"0","_seopress_robots_breadcrumbs":"","_seopress_robots_freeze_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_custom_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_canonical":"","_seopress_social_fb_title":"","_seopress_social_fb_desc":"","_seopress_social_fb_img":"","_seopress_social_fb_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_height":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_title":"","_seopress_social_twitter_desc":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_height":0,"_seopress_redirections_value":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled_regex":"","_seopress_redirections_logged_status":"","_seopress_redirections_param":"","_seopress_redirections_type":0,"_seopress_analysis_target_kw":"","_seopress_news_disabled":"","_seopress_video_disabled":"","_seopress_video":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas_manual":[],"_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable_all":"","_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas":[],"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[102,117],"tags":[238,191,164],"class_list":["post-664","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-relationships","category-wellness","tag-bloom","tag-letting-go","tag-self"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/664","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/88"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=664"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/664\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=664"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=664"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=664"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}