Last Friday night, The Boy was supposed to attend the puppet guild's Christmas party. I had used one of my standby Mother tools, bribery, to induce and encourage good behavior - if he did well, I'd haul his sweet tuchus to said party. I'm proud of him - he lived up to his end of the bargain.
And, well, um, I didn't.
Oh, I had
Foremost in my pile of excuses, was my current need for a daily nap. Which prevented me from reading the actual newsletter about the particulars of the meeting. Which meant we had no gift for the gift exchange purchased. The instructions confused me. A child's gift had a $5 limit; the adult price range was $10. Is The Boy a child or an adult? He's as big as the adults. He has more adult interests than the young children who occasionally attend meetings with their parents. It was a conundrum for which I had no real answer.
My nap fix also prevented me from preparing a finger food to share. Just what is a finger food? Are cookies a finger food? Or did they mean a Zip Loc bag of Cheerios, like I give to Seth? Again, a conundrum.
The party was due to start at 7pm - heck, it's dark then. And it would take me 75 minutes to get there - in the dark. In a direction (and a county) I am not at all familiar with. Sure, I have a GPS - but it needs a night off once in a while. Did I mention it was dark? I seem to have lost my driving moxie after all this time at home - I've turned chickens**t behind the wheel. Hard to believe - I was the person who drove from PA to CA with my young daughters, so I could start a job at a building I've never seen, and in a state I had never visited. Yep, I'm chickens**t now.
Since the party had a late start, it wasn't over until 8:30. That's after The Boy's bedtime - after he takes his meds, he's off to dreamland before 8pm every night. And we would still have the drive home...in the dark. We wouldn't get back until 10pm, at best.
Oh, and snow was in the weather forecast. Let's just forget that I grew up in PA, and lived in the tundra that is Central NY before I moved here.
So anyway, The Mister and I told The Boy he wasn't going. He didn't react well, let me tell you. Lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth, expletives flew from his lips like he was a member of the longshoremen's union. But he didn't totally freak out; I explained the logical reasons why we couldn't go, and apologized profusely for my lack of attention to the newsletter, and promised that I'd
So this Wednesday, I will be taking The Boy to see Alvin and the Chipmunks 2: The Squeakquel.
At least the theater will be dark. I get some of my best napping time in at the movies.