A few months ago, I experienced something profound. I was to attend my daughter's school track meet (three races) and from the get-go, I could feel that this was going to be a DAY.

After seeing my other children off to school I squeezed in a visit to a friend in need, which in turn made me late for a doctor's appointment that I had previously rescheduled twice.

Knowing I needed to be back by noon for the race, I hurried through my appointment, picked up my preschool daughter and sped to the track only to find that I had missed two races that my other daughter had competed in earlier than planned.

By this time my older boys were waiting to be picked up, but it was just then that the third race my daughter was to compete in was announced.

I ran to the right track, barely saw her come in second (without my camera ready) and then discovered that her placement meant another race later on.

Meanwhile, my cell phone kept ringing, and I told my boys I would be right there.

As I zoomed to their school a thought hit me — my daughter who is in kindergarten. She goes to school for half a day, and by now it was close to 2 p.m.

I had done the ultimate Mother no-no and COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN MY DAUGHTER.

Thankfully, I remembered that first thing that morning I had asked the office staff to have her wait in the office instead of riding the bus.

Score one for Mom.

After changing directions and practicing some Lamaze breathing (how long has my kindergartner been waiting at school?) I arrived only to find that she had gotten on the bus after all.

My kindergarten daughter was home alone.

Once again I sped toward home, calling our house repeatedly in between my boys' calls ("Mom, WE'RE FAINT WITH HUNGER").

Finally, my kindergartner picked up the phone and told me all was well and we realized she had only been home about 15 minutes.

When I got home, we shared a mother-daughter hug. Then bam! — back into the car we went with cell phone ringing. This time it was the bank asking me to come and have my family's picture taken to celebrate my son's winning a short film video competition. Now???

Stalling them for a short time, I grabbed my older boys — by now we had seven people in a small Subaru because I hadn't thought to change cars — and zipped to the track meet for my daughter's last race.

I arrived in time, but just as the race began, my 4-year-old, who had been stuck like glue to my leg all day, suddenly made a beeline into the crowd.

It was a moment of truth — do I finally capture this last race or chase down my daughter?