I threw a fit tonight. A real whopper.
Tonight is Homecoming. Hannah's FIRST dance, her first dance as a high school student. We've spent hours every weekend shopping for "the" dress, shoes and accessories. We've been working on this for weeks. Weeks!
This afternoon we decided that Hannah needed a sweater or a jacket for her ensemble. Her dress is pretty strappy up top, and we had a cold front move in last night. This is the first night we will have used the furnace all season. We both agreed she was going to freeze and should have something pretty to wear over her dress.
The plans were for Hannah to meet at a friends house at 6 p.m., then the parents would each drive a leg of the "to dinner", "to pictures," "to the dance," "home from the dance" evening. The kids would text us parents as they needed rides.
About 3:30 I ran out to Macy's to grab Hannah a black bolo sweater, then on to Kroger to grab a bottle of fingernail polish remover so she could re-do her nails. While at Kroger I bought a few groceries, because I'm just like that. I was rushed, and a little frenzied, but I was finished and on my way home by 4:45, so I could help Hannah get ready.
About 4:46 my daughter texted me and told me she was heading over to her friends house. Uh, what? You weren't supposed to be going over until 6 p.m. I call her and get a half distracted conversation, since she wasn't paying attention to me but yelling at her brother.
At 4:50 I get home to a full dressed and made up girl walking out the door and start FREAKING OUT. Why? Uh, why did this friend change the meeting time from 6 to 5? At the last minute? Why had I just spent the last hour running errands for Hannah? She didn't need a sweater? She didn't need fingernail polish remover? I had JUST WASTED MY TIME.
And now, I was being denied the pleasure of "helping" her get ready...take pictures...because she didn't need me, and I needed to put my groceries away. I had missed everything because she sent me on her errands. I WENT OFF.
Cue poor behavior. Cue swearing. Cue slamming of doors.
Hannah left. I walked upstairs to find the disaster of the century in her bathroom.
More bad behavior and swearing.
And now, I am sitting here mad at myself and upset I am such a juvenile, fit throwing weenie, while Hannah is at her first dance. Not texting me.
I hope the other parents, who did drive legs of the evening, got some good pictures.