Picket Fence Post

The Girl had been invited to a birthday party. Then it was re-scheduled. I wrote down the new date, entered it into my BlackBerry and activated the reminder function on the handheld so I wouldn’t miss it.

But for some reason, regardless of in how many locations I placed reminders about the new party date, it just wouldn’t stick in my brain. So this past Friday evening’s events shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

On Friday afternoon I’d made sure The Girl was all ready for the party. She brushed her hair, put on the shirt she’d planned to wear and made the birthday card. I coordinated logistics with The Spouse so that he could get The Eldest Boy to his re-scheduled 6:30 p.m. soccer game in town. Then The Youngest Boy and The Girl piled into my vehicle and we arrived to the birthday party locale only 10 minutes past the appointed time . When we walked in and I looked around, I realized that the party is THIS coming Friday. We were a week early.

As we left the party site and headed for The Eldest Boy’s soccer game, The Youngest Boy said he was reminded of the time when I completely forgot about his good friend’s birthday party and we missed it, even though the party invitation was right there on the bulletin board in the kitchen that I walked past multiple times a day. In that case, I’d forgotten to input the date into the BlackBerry with the audio reminder.

At least this time I didn’t actually miss the party. I was just a bit celebratorily premature is all.

Image credit: This web site.

The birthday party invitation has been in the middle of our magnetic bulletin board since before we went away on our family’s Disney vacation.

I RSVP’d to The Youngest Boy’s best friend’s birthday party and left a message with his best friend’s older sister, who I hoped would pass the message along to her parents. But since we were prepping to leave for Florida the next day, I have time to follow up on the phone call.

This morning, The Youngest Boy pointed to the invitation and asked whether the birthday party was this week. Then I looked. The party was on January 31. This PAST Saturday. Just fabulous.

The Youngest Boy took his parents’ oversight admirably. While I stood there verbally beating myself up, he put an arm around me and said, “It’s okay Mom.” Then he went upstairs to his room where I heard him quietly crying.

After The Youngest Boy boarded the school bus, I left a long, rambling phone message to the birthday boy’s parents, apologized for forgetting the date and invited the birthday boy to our house for a playdate this coming weekend.

Sometimes I feel like I’m my three kids’ administrative assistant. And I’m doing a lousy job of it.