This is my last full week of being less than half a century old! Well, was, I suppose as it’s already Friday.
I feel like a child counting down to the dreaded first day of school – five more sleeps to go. And just as you might look back with youthful disappointment at all those big plans for the summer vacation and wonder what you did with the last two months, this is definitely a time for thinking “what the hell have I been doing all this time?”.
Right now I’m feeling overheated, overweight and underachieved.
Okay so I have created three fairly well adjusted children, but this week hasn’t produced any of my finest parenting moments. Yesterday, I spent a peaceful morning blissfully unaware of the fact that I had promised to wake SJ for work at 9.30. Unaware, that is, until the swearing and crashing around started. Now, it could be argued that as the 17-year old owner of a functioning i-phone he could have woken himself up, but nonetheless a promise is irrefutably a promise.
Then, to make matters worse I had forgotten to remind him to book off next Friday and Saturday for my birthday meal with the extended family, and my party, respectively. As a teenage boy who spends as little time with us as possible, and eschews any kind of conversation, he managed to be the only member of the family who didn’t realize we would be celebrating my 50th birthday.
Really, you might think … what kind of child shows such a lack of interest in family affairs that he doesn’t know about such an important event? Surely a smidgeon of righteous indignation is both natural and justified? Unfortunately I can’t shake the knowledge that he was never part of any of those conversations, and I really should have thought to make sure he got the time off work.
Well, Daddy to the rescue; and a quick phone call to SJ’s boss, the head chef, secured Friday off for the family meal. He may miss most of the party on Saturday but, as a raucous gathering of 40-somethings (Oh, alright, and 50-somethings!) pretending to still be young and energetic is probably not his cup of tea, he may just be glad of the excuse. Now he can be victimized and aggrieved, but not actually have to attend the party. It’s a win win!