WFMW: I'm A Freakin' Freak.

There are a few rather odd things about me. Just ask my husband. Or my sisters. I consider myself to be unique, but they would probably tell me to get over my bad self. That I'm just. plain. weird.

I can't select a book without reading page 13 first. I want to see if I like the way the author writes, if the story will draw me in and make sure the main character isn't annoying. When I buy the book (or check it out from the library) and start reading it, I get the biggest case of deja vu. Then I look down and see that it is the 13th page and all is well with my world again.

I never know if it's "alot" or "a lot". If it's "week end" or "weekend". Nor do I care enough to remember the answer when I'm told. I've got too many other things to keep track of. Like my kid who likes to trip me up. And often.

And speaking of him, I'm kind of a lazy mom. I base many parenting decisions on which choice requires the least amount of effort. For instance Summer Day Camp. Logan's going to the one that doesn't make me pack a lunch every day. I don't care if it costs more money. I get the summer off from that awful chore. And I'm taking it, thankyouverymuch.

I have been on a scary-crazy mission for years-Years-to create the perfect meatloaf. Because meatloaf=comfort. I have tried many recipes that I found in cookbooks, online or just made up in my head. I'm still not satisfied. It may taste good, but it's never good enough. So I will continue on my quest and make the Sassy Family be my taste-testers.

But the one thing I need help with today is remembering to send Birthday cards and thank you notes. On time. Or, at all.

The cult we grew up in forbade us from recognizing birthdays. Apparently it took glory away from Christ. We were also not allowed to celebrate Christmas. I'm not entirely sure about this, but I think it was because it took glory away from Herbert W. Armstrong-evil apostle general extraordinaire.

Because I never received jack wrapped in pretty paper, I never had an opportunity to send a thank you card. And in order to avoid public retribution from the pulpit, I also never sent out a birthday card.

Now that I do celebrate these events I have some anxiety. Because when it comes to remembering birthdays and sending thank you notes, I suck donkey butt.

This wouldn't be so bad, except I have married into the most polite and gracious family ever. They mail their thank you notes directly after opening their presents. They call on birthdays AND send a card. They are awesome. I am not.

I have the best of intentions though.

I write the birthdays on our calendar and then promptly forget to look, remember, plan and execute.

I have a drawer full of cute little thank you cards that have been there forever.

After Christmas, Logan and I designed a personalized note thanking his aunts and uncles and grandparents for their fabulous gifts. We took pictures of him playing with the toys they bought him, and wearing the clothes they had purchased. He even wrote a short message on each one.

Only we forgot to send most of them. And by "we", I mean "I". They are still sitting on my desk to finish addressing, attach a stamp and walk down the driveway to our mailbox.

This is where ya'll come in. What are your tried and true methods to recognize the birthdays of your loved ones on time? How soon do you mail your thank you notes?

I really need your help before people stop buying us presents due to our rudeness. And by "our" I mean "my".

Now go help others solve their WFMW problems at Rocks In My Dryer. And thank you.


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