Confessions From the Socially Clumsy...

I forget birthdays. Almost all of them. And when I DO remember that it's someone's BIG DAY, it's too late to mail a card or a gift without them realizing that I either, a: forgot and therefore was late, or b: didn't forget but just didn't make it enough of a priority to get it done on time and therefore was late.

I am also a terrible gift-wrapper. On the rare occasion when I DO remember your birthday, and I have even remembered to get you a gift, I usually forget to wrap it until the very last minute, and then I go on a search through the deep, dark canyons in my gift-wrapping bin (let me point out how ironic it is that I even HAVE a gift-wrapping bin) to find the appropriate bag/box and the corresponding tissue paper.

The problem, however, is this: I NEVER, and I say NEVER, have any tissue paper. And I might or might not have an appropriate gift bag, which explains why your baby shower gift from me was the one in the Santa "Ho-Ho-Ho" bag, the one with no tissue paper and your name written in sharpie on the outside of the bag. Hey, at least it wasn't still in the Target bag. I've been known to pull that little number a few times, which I am not proud of, but hey, from far away maybe it looks like a polka-dot gift bag.

*Sigh*

I think good ol' Emily Post would have a few things to say about this, things that I am not sure I want to hear but things I might should learn anyway. I bet all of her gifts looked like they just rolled off of the gift-wrapping line at Nordstrom, with crisp edges, perfectly-tied ribbons, and that expensive double-sided tape that you stick under the flaps so that from the outside you can't see any tape at all. I bet she had a filing system for all of her cards, too.

One day I am gonna have everyone's birthdays on my iCal with alarms that go off 5 days before to remind me to send cards/gifts. One day I am going to go to Party City to stock up on tissue paper and gift-wrap galore! One day I am going to conquer this disease known as social clumsiness.

But today is not that day, my friend.

No, today is the day when instead I am setting a timer for every 10 minutes as I attempt to potty train my almost 2-year-old. Today is the day when I am bribing my almost 2-year-old with any and every thing I can think of to get her out of diapers and wiping her own rear-end for once. Today is the day when my almost 2-year-old holds such power over me that she can reduce me to near tears just by peeing (AGAIN) in her training panties and then running through the house screaming, "NO, MOMMY, NO, MOMMY," as I try to stop her to get her to change her panties, just to then start the WHOLE PROCESS over again.

Today is THAT day.

So, if today is your birthday, or even if it's tomorrow (or next week, or next month, or next year), know that I love you a whole lot more than Emily Post loved HER friends and family, but that in lieu of a card and/or gift, I will ask Emerson to dedicate one poopy training panty, or one out-in-public temper tantrum, to you as a tribute to you on your special day.

What a gift.