Don’t you just love it when you suddenly remember a party that your kid’s supposed to be at on the day of the damn birthday?
This was my Saturday – I’d RSVP’d for the party ages ago but had neglected to put it in the diary immediately. I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like this, but lately, my mind is like a sieve. Not a high-end shiny Masterchef style sieve. A slightly battered, bent out of shape one, with obvious signs of wear and tear.
To make the day even worse I’d left the youngest’s car seat in grandmas car the day before (I told you, rickety old sieve) so I couldn’t even nip out to buy a birthday present.
The weekend was fast turning into a disaster littered with parenting fail after parenting fail! No one wants to be the parent turning up without a present.
This has happened to me so I should know. That present didn’t arrive on time due to a genuine delivery problem but the child whose party it was proceeded to ask me where it was in front of everyone.
I awkwardly explained that her present was at the mercy of My Hermes whilst marvelling at the ‘zero fucks given attitude’ of this child. I could tell no one believed me – especially the kid.
Being mugged off by a 6-year-old is a low point for anyone and I’ve sworn to myself not to let it happen again!
So Saturday consisted of me trying to persuade my daughter to stay home and hang out with us instead. She was, of course, horrified at the prospect.
Time for Plan B – Pull something out of the bag…..The impossible mum mantra!
Thank goodness for the internet.
I managed to hit up the Argos same day collection and sent an SOS to Papa Crock to nip out of work and grab the goods.
Panic over I could send her to the party without the fear of being shamed by an 8-year-old again….For now, I’m safe!
My capacity of maintaining a mental diary is officially non-existent. I live in constant fear of someone turning up or messaging me asking where I am and realising I’ve forgotten to be somewhere or do something. Try as I might I’m realising that ‘mental notes’ just don’t work for me anymore.
It might be because of my age or because I work full time or because I’m a PA to a family of 5. Whatever the reason, if it isn’t documented somewhere immediately, then the chances are it isn’t happening.
I beat myself up about it as well which is ludicrous. The rest of my family couldn’t give a shit about whats going on. They just look at me to point and fire them where they are supposed to be at any given moment.
I figure that as long as I don’t send the eldest to tap dancing instead of his sister or dress the cats in school uniforms and send them off to school instead of the humans. Or (most importantly) remember to put clothes on before leaving the house, there’s no real cause for concern yet.
Image is by Juliette Borda