I was an awful daughter.
You know what my mother would do though, that to this day I can't figure out what possessed her to handle the situation this way?
Occassionally I would get to school and realize I'd forgotten to take my lunch. Whenever that happened, I would internally die, because I knew what would happen.
Whenever other kids forgot their lunch, you'd see their mothers show up sometime during the morning, and watch her walk over to the door of the school, like a sane person, and presumably, once she stepped inside, go over to the office and leave the lunch bag. Everyone knew everyones mother, and you'd obviously see your own mother pulling up close to the door and going in, so you knew to go over there to get your lunch at lunch time.
Not my mother.
Instead of pulling up to the school door, and walking 15 feet into the building, and another 15 feet to the office, she'd park at the far end of the playground, and march across the playground, up onto the grass around the building, storm up to the classroom she knew you were in, and start banging on the outside window. Even if all the windows were open, because it was April or May. She had to bang like no one noticied this woman that looked like a Shelly Winters in the Poseidon Adventure approaching the school.
The nun would have to go over, and pull up the blinds, pull up the screen, so my mother could shove a paper bag with a tuna fish sandwich in it to her, and tell her "THIS IS FOR CHAI TEA! SHE FORGOT HER LUNCH! IS THIS HER CLASSROOM?"
Sometimes she didn't always get the right classroom the first time.
I begged her once not to do that, and she asked me if I was ashamed of her, and that she didn't have time to go all the way into the school and to the office.