Anniversaries Come And Go

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Early on my husband realized he was the luckiest man alive.  Why?  Because I never could remember the dates of our wedding anniversary/my birthday/his birthday/Valentine's day, therefore, I could never get mad if he forgot any of the above events.

I blame a faulty gene on my parents. I believe that the gene that enables other women to style their hair well must be the same gene that places enough sentimentality on dates to make one able to remember them.

It would explain a lot.

I finally had to have our wedding date engraved inside my wedding ring just so I wouldn't have to call my mother repeatedly during the month of December.

Hey, at least I could remember our wedding month.  I can't really take much credit though, it's hard to miss the poinsettia trees that are in a lot of the wedding pictures.

Recently I panicked and dug out my 8 year old's birth certificate just to make sure I'd been writing his correct birthday on his school forms.

Phew.  Got that right at least.

I'd planned on celebrating my first blogiversary with an incredibly insightful post that would definitely end up going viral.

But I forgot.

My blogiversary came and went without even a hard-drive backup to commemorate the event.   I only remembered when my parents-in-law commented on how grown-up my kids' friends were looking.  It reminded me that my first post had to do with my kids' friends laughing at some of the items I had on hand at an outing.

So one year, 6 weeks and 1 day later, anniversaries come and go.  But mothers, even blogging ones with faulty sentimentality genes, are always prepared.