I F#@&ed Up

Birthday parties are one of the best perks to having children.

Seriously, what more can you ask for? It’s a playdate for the kids and BIRTHDAY CAKE for us! So, each weekend I eagerly inspect the birthday party schedule and prepare for the cakefest. 

There was one upcoming party I was really looking forward to.

1. It was less than a mile from my house (in case I was in a drunken stupor from cake overdose, I would be fine).

2. They have 2 kids close to my kids’ age, so both boys would have fun (and be occupied).

3. The mom is a friend of mine and throws a pretty good party (TRANSLATION: There will be grown up food, not that I’m above Goldfish and cheese pizza, but this mom usually puts out a good adult spread).

So, the whole family dons our best birthday threads: the boys in matching outfits (yes, I have become one of THOSE moms), and me in jeans and a clean shirt (this is considered sprucing up for me).

Bronson took a 3 hour nap in the morning. So he will be rested and ready for a full afternoon of activity. Also, the sun is shining and it’s a beautiful LA day. We arrive to the party a little early, and I’m delighted to find a parking spot right up front. Alright! It’s gonna be a good day. The party gods are on my side.

We grab the gift and walk up to their house. Morris loves to ring the bell, so I oblige. Good thing he pressed it twenty  or a hundred times because there is probably so much chaos inside from all the party buzz. The party hostess finally answers:

Her: (with big eyes and a puzzled look on her face) Ah hey guys.

ME: (being that I graduated college with honors, my astute brain has already started surveying the evidence: no food spread, no party decorations, no one in attendance but me and my family) Umm. Wow. You don’t even have to say it. I just realized your party is SUNDAY and not SATURDAY.

Her: (starting to freak out) OMG, did I put “today” on the invite? Oh no, it’s totally MY fault.

ME: (feeling smaller than Bronson) Nah, it’s my fault. I goofed, I’m a day early (trying to get outta there as quickly as possible, gosh, I feel like a major moron).

Her: (sensing I feel like a major moron) Um, it was nice seeing you though. See ya again tomorrow.

Seriously, it felt like we were standing on her porch in Halloween costumes on July 1. Or asking a woman when her baby’s due, and she says she delivered 2 months ago. We turn to leave and here’s the worst part:

Morris: Mom?…..

Me: Yes honey…

Morris: That was embarrassing.

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