Matt works weekends. It’s the nature of his job, and quite frankly, it freaking sucks.
It sucks on holidays that are always on weekends.
It sucks because that’s when the kids are out of school.
It sucks because it means I do the majority of the parenting when all the kids are there on my own.
And yesterday it sucked because it was Teddy’s 7th birthday.
Matt leaves before the kids get up. So we can’t celebrate anything in the morning. We wait until he gets home around 2:00 in the afternoon. That’s not terrible for an adult, but in kid time that might as well be midnight.
Yesterday we worked it out for Matt to meet us at Golden Corral so Teddy could use these free meal vouchers he’d gotten for doing well in school, before they expired, and because it’s really the kind of place he’d like to eat. Me, not so much, what with the sneeze guard reminder that hundreds of other people had just come in contact with the food I’m about to eat, and there are no state mandats on their person hygiene.
We ate, went home figured out the kitchen sick and plumbing has to be completely redone and I declared dinner out when it was time. My sister came over, she brought presents. Teddy opened them, we went out to dinner. We picked up over priced, avengers cupcakes in neon colors for school on Monday, because the kitchen it’s functional for me to bake anything. We did showers and bedtime.
We forgot to give Teddy his presents.
WHAT KIND OF PARENT DOES THAT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
We apologized profusely to Teddy and he looked at us with his deep, blue eyes and said “It’s ok, we can open them after school tomorrow.”
He’s so sweet and never even asked for presents. I would and have been devastated when people forget my birthday even now, much less when I was 7. I mean we didn’t exactly forget, I planned a party for this coming Saturday, Matt took him to pick out his cake and we went and had lunch out somewhere he LOVED, but we forgot to give him his presents in the bussle of Matt’s crazy schedule and the sink, and people coming over and getting ready for school the next day.
He’s my sweet child. The one who always has something nice to say. The one who rarely ever needs discipline, and the one that gets lost in the business of life because he’s not screaming and demanding an audience all the time.
My heart hurts from this oversite. I’m tearing up now writing about it. I feel like the worst mother in the world.