The perils of the overscheduled parent
After a weekend full of children’s activities, work can come as relaxation
hustled into the Merritt Athletic Club with my three children in tow, pleased that we were on time (ish) for the second birthday party and fourth kid-related event of the day.
My plan was to drop off the twin boys and take my kindergartner with me to pick up beverages and snacks for the guests coming to our house later that night. I was checking to-dos off my Saturday list – soccer game, take daughter to friend’s house for birthday party number one, special event for boys at Center Stage, back to pick up daughter by 2:30, 3 p.m. pool party for boys, check, check, check, check. And I was feeling smug.
Until I introduced myself to the guest of honor’s father and mentioned that his son had played at our house before. He looked confused; this was ringing no bells. “It’s OK,” I said, feeling gracious. “The second grade just keeps growing. Now there are three classes! How can anyone keep up?”
The dad looked still more confused. “Well, yes,” he stammered, “that’s why we invited all the kindergarten classes. We don’t know all the kids, of course, but we figured they all play together at recess.”
Kindergarten? This was a party for a child in my sons’ grade. Why was this poor man talking about kindergartners? Was he loopy from the chlorine?
As it turned out, I was the confused one. While my boys splashed around in the water – six inches taller than the other children in the pool – I stood on the deck with my daughter (who had no swimsuit with her) and slowly realized that these were her friends, her grade group. The invitation was for her, not them.
Such are the days of our weekend lives — every Saturday and Sunday jam-packed with activities, athletics, obligations, enrichments. It’s a miracle that that’s the first time I mixed up whose birthday party was whose. But I’m sure it won’t be the only time. There’s no room to breathe on the weekends, much less sort out tiny things
Ilike who is actually invited somewhere. Take a kid, any kid! Oh, you didn’t account for the hungry twin boys when you planned this shindig? Think of it as two for the price of one!
On a parent-focused Facebook group of which I’m a member, one friend lamented:
Truer words have never been typed. When I was child-free, I longed for the weekends. These days, I look forward to