File under: Mom fails that actually aren't

Several weeks ago, it occurred to me that Ben hadn't yet taken his school photos. I kinda sorta recalled hearing something about it. I emailed the office. Oopsie, they'd been taken a couple of weeks ago.

This is not the first time I've spaced out on this. Years ago, Max's school photos arrived home; he'd been wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed "Monster force." Which he is, so that worked out fine. Still, you'd think I'd be more on my school photo game by this point in my parenting career. Or, I dunno, less on my game because now there are three kids tasking my brain cells.

I wasn't perturbed. This is our first iPhone kid, which means we have eleventy billion photos of him stored in a cloud. Also see: "third kid." Also see: Some things are just not worth the guilt. Or make that many things. You know that old Carly Simon song "I Haven't Got Time for the Pain?" Well, I haven't got time for the guilt. This is because I'm too busy doing All The Other Stuff for them, as I once meticulously detailed in I Am The Person Who Notices We Are Running Out of Toilet Paper, and I Rock.

In the end, will any of the stuff we moms feel guilty about come back to haunt us or our kids someday? Will I look back 30 years from now at the photo of Ben wearing whatever outfit and think, Wow, you sucked as a mom? Will it matter that I let the kids eat breakfast cereal for Sunday night dinner? That Sabrina's lacrosse cleats no longer fit her and she had practice that night? That I didn't do all of the therapeutic exercises for Max that I was supposed to? That I forgot to call in for a parent-teacher conference? That I let the kids watch TV all afternoon one day because I had to get a bunch of stuff done at home?

These is the exact question I ask myself whenever the guilt beast rears its head: Will it matter when the kids grow up? And the answer is almost always N-O.

I think what happened at a Memorial Day Parade a couple of weeks ago pretty much sums up my mindset. We were sitting on the curb in a town at the Jersey Shore, watching the celebration. A Girl Scout troop walked by and tossed some chocolate candy at us, which all fell on the floor. Ben scooped every one up, opened them and popped them into his mouth. He must have eaten seven pieces in a row. Sabrina glared at me, horrified. I was all, "They were wrapped!"

Things turned out OK with the photo, too.