When you're the schmuck

It happens. To all of us. Some of us more than others. But today, I am feeling like a schmuck.

You see, if you've read below, you know my little princess turned one last week. And on Sunday we threw a small party.

As much as I'd love to be one of those big party people that sends custom invites, has a whole decor theme (polkadot cupcake luau Kelsey!), coordinating goody bags, yada, yada, yada, I am not. If I had only one or two children, abso-stinkin-lutely I would be. If that were the case, we would also all still match in family pictures I'm sure. But really, at this point in time, I'm just glad if not more than one child is picking their nose, no one is crying and everyone has all articles of clothing still attached to their person in a picture. That should tell you something.

So let's be honest, our "big" birthday parties consist of an email or phone call and a few immediate family members. If I'm lucky I remember to call my grandparents and invite them should they happen to be in town. Although last time I invited them I neglected to mention what time. Oops. They guessed close enough and arrived only slightly early. Bless them.

Thus last week, after speaking to my parents and saying "We'll do Charli's party on Sunday, just dinner and a little cake thing around 5:30", I assumed everyone else knew too. I knew that my sister knew ('cause she called me), and I assumed that my parents would tell my brothers, who are roommates, one of whom works with my father, and who see my parents more than I do. My whole family lives within 10 minutes of each other except us, so I kinda figured they'd chat about it.

Well, you know what happens when you assume.

Yep.

So despite the fact that I know my dad mentioned it to my older brother (ha!), I would like to publicly apologize for not officially calling and inviting you to our house on Sunday which is what I should have done in the first place.

I stink.

Well, not literally I hope. I did put on deodorant today.

Maybe I should check my feet though.

I owe you a kalua pork in an air conditioned house. We missed you. I'm sorry.