Organising mine and three little people's diaries has been, more or less, a walk in the park.
Ensuring appropriate checks are in place when I'm working away.
Making sure I have minimal nights away or taking time off when my parents holiday.
Everything is ready the evening before.
If I am working away, sets of clothing are lined up for the little people.
My overnight bag and work bag are by the front door, along with my shoes, coat, make up bag and jewellery.
And so, in the past week, I have had to hang me head in shame.
Knowing I would be at Britmums Live on Saturday, that Mr J coaches squash on a Saturday morning, I organised for my parents to look after the little people.
We received an invitation from Seren's best friend, for the three little people to be at her party.
I sprung to action. Arranging for my parents to get them to the party. Making sure Mr J met everyone at the party to regain parental control.
And whilst enjoying Britmums Live I began receiving phone calls, texts.
And then this one arrived:
And after reassuring my mum, I had indeed contacted the mum, and the party was confirmed as 11.30, I felt better.
Until I received this:
And the shock and guilt set in.
I had confirmed the time not the date.
Seren had put the invitation in a "safe place" so excited was she by the invitation from her bestie.
(Please note, he programmed his contact details as this, as opposed to the other hubby, who's not so hot).
And then the further misdemeanors.
I sent this to best friend's mum on Sunday night:
As I turned up at 8.32 to find out I was at the wrong surgery. By 5 miles.
Life hasn't got much better.
I purchased a voucher to buy a friend a gift. Today, panicking the voucher expired tonight, I contacted her to enquire *sensitively* whether her baby-to-be-born had been named. It hadn't. I cried. And this evening checked the voucher which expires in a month's time. And I had revealed my hand. I cried some more.
I know that my loosing my marbles is symptomatic.
Not of my age.
Well, maybe a little bit.
But more of everything.
And so, for now, the need to regain a sense of organisation is a priority.
And, with good humour, I confirm my word of the week is:
Please join in, over at the Reading Residence, with your Word of the Week.