Bad mommy, how dare you turn your cell phone off?
I’m old enough to remember parenting before cell phones. That is, when the elementary school had your home number and your work number, your husband’s work number, and the always-requested never-used emergency-backup-friend-or-relative number. And that was it. Back then, if your kid was feeling a little feverish at school and went to the office, they’d have the kid sit or lie somewhere to rest, would leave messages at home and work, and if you actually got the message and showed up in an hour or two, you were amazingly prompt and responsive and thank you very much. If the kid was lying on the ground bleeding, they’d call an ambulance; they wouldn’t sit by the phone expecting that you’d call back immediately.
But now, apparently, I’m supposed to be instantly, always, available for calls from the school. Yesterday I slipped out of my office during my so-called lunch hour (not that I usually go out for lunch then, a couple
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