Help from above.

There are days when I realize that someone is helping me to avoid a few major blunders that would scar my children.

I got a note home in late October reminding me to RSVP to the "Thanksgiving Feast".  Our school invites the parents to come and have a turkey dinner with the kids at lunchtime to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Let's just put it out there that
a) this is going to be nasty, at best.
b) my kids are going to throw most of it in the trash
c) it's stupid expensive
d) all 3 of my kids eat at different times and I either have to eat with one and risk crushing the souls of the other two, eat three times, or opt out completely.

I opt out.

Every time.

Yes, I have guilt.

So, now you can see why I threw this note in the trash along with the 8 other reminders I had received from each of the kids in the preceding weeks.

Unfortunately...the "Thanksgiving Feast" is not the same thing as the "Thanksgiving Lunch".

The "Thanksgiving Feast" is the first grader's big event/program for the year. They practiced songs and made costumes and prepared food and made personalized placemats for their moms who RSVP'd (you see where this is going, right?)  This is the kind of school where EVERYONE shows up. You don't show up, it's noticeable.

I didn't RSVP.

I threw no less than 4 reminders in the trash.

But there is someone "up there" who loves my little first grader very much and somehow managed to get me to that school at the precise time the program was going to take place (I had signed up to help with a fundraiser project for Ethan's class...which I never do because I have two little kids to tote along). I peeked in the gym on my way to his class and got that sick feeling. You know that sick "am I missing something?" feeling?

I assumed that there would be no placemat for me, even if I did want to sneak in and listen, but some wise teacher/aid/mom had her make one anyway and it was placed on the end of the table that gave me enough room to sit with all three of the little girls.

I checked in on Ethan's class and found that I was not needed at all, raced back to the gym and sat at our placemat and started clapping when Megan walked up to the risers with her grocery bag indian vest on.

We smiled and took grainy pictures with my camera phone.

And I breathed a deep sigh of relief. A first grade heart was not broken today.

Thank you, to whoever got the job of working this mess out, I seriously owe you one.