Now, I’m constantly doing boneheaded stuff. If you need further proof, go back into the archives and just read. I’m a complete idiot.
But, I could always count on being a complete idiot that REMEMBERED things. Lately, it appears, even that ability is being slowly taken away from me.
You see, sweet Internet, tomorrow my eldest son, my darling firstborn turns 7.
7 years old. For those of you who have known him since he was a bun in my chubby oven, I’ll give you a moment to digest that ickle bit of information.
Yeah, so 7. Anyway, the date didn’t elude me in the slightest. It’s marked on my calendar in large ink, complete with exclamation mark and “Dave off work” underneath it. August 20th is a date that my brain and my poor beaten up lady bits will never forget.
Except for when it comes to ACTION.
We’d planned to take him out to lunch at a restaurant of his choosing (always a hugemongeous bonus for a kid saddled with a mother who on her non-pregnant days, still has cravings) and do something else with him. Kids Museum, bowling, something. Doesn’t matter.
Yet this morning, when I waddled to the bathroom for the eleventhy-fifth time, it dawned on me that I had no cake mix with which to make him a cake. And in Ben’s eyes, it’s no party until there’s a cake involved.
I promptly forgot about this when I woke up for real and made plans to go to the pet store located conveniently next to Target (read: Heaven on Earth) and was left with only a nagging “I am forgetting something I needed to go to Target for” feeling in my guts.
Butter, I decided. I needed butter.
(as an aside, I’ve gone through more butter during the past 15 weeks than I have in potentially the last 10 years).
I pulled into the parking lot and looked at the huge toy store also conveniently located right there and something kept tapping me on the shoulder. Did I need to buy a gift for a birthday party? Was Alex in dire need of….more balls? Did I finally have to break down and buy something for the new baby?
SHIT! I thought to myself. No, what I needed more than anything else was a gift for my eldest son. For him to open on his birthday. Which is tomorrow. And I also need a card and cake. For tomorrow. On his birthday.
(Before you think too ill of me here, let me tell you something. When it’s all said and done here, we will have celebrated the birth of my son something like 6 times. You think I’m kidding? Here:
1) Last Week When Out Of Town Family Happened To Be IN Town
2) Tomorrow, August 20, His Real Birthday
3) Sometime After My (asshole) Brother Who Didn’t Take Me To Hawaii Where He Is Right Now, The Jerk, Gets Home
4) His Friends Party Sometime In September
5) With His Father
6) With My In-Laws
So, while this is an obvious OOPS! on my own part, it’s certainly not the end of the world.)
I trundled off to the toy shop where I agonized about what to purchase him. I shit you not when I tell you that his closet is stocked full of toys and games that he never plays with. (I need to donate these toys to charity)
I finally settled on something that requires being built and then uses a remote control to do…something. This is typically Daver’s realm, so I hope I chose well.
Where the hell have both the time and my brain cells gone?
In order to make my ego feel slightly less stupid, oblige me please, Internet. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done lately?