There used to be a time when I loved Saturdays. Lived for them, in fact. When I worked all week and come Saturday I would shop 'til I dropped. The outlet mall was one of my favorite places to head on a Saturday. Sometimes I'd meet up with my sister, or a girlfriend, but even when I was alone, I would revel in all that was priced 50% off. Those days are long gone and now I tend to loathe Saturdays. They usually mean a soccer game for Tommy (although today the game was rained out), ice skating lessons for Brendan, an early morning trip the gym for a class that I don't particularly care for all that much but take anyway because it's one of the two or, if I'm lucky, three days I can actually GET to the gym.

But what has me down lately about Saturdays are the afternoon birthday parties. Don't get me wrong. I am not a birthday party scrooge. I get it. I have a five year old boy. I totally get it. But he has a better social life than I do lately. Last week he received three party invitations all for the same day! Why is it always on me to RSVP to say Tommy will come? Why is it always me who buys the present, wraps it, and forces Tommy to make a hand-made card to go with it? Why am I giving up two hours of every weekend, it seems, to shuttle Tommy to some bowling alley, art studio, farm, padded play space, or gymnasium?

In an ideal scenario, I would do the drop off and then go shopping. Now there's a thought! Problem is, cash flow is not what it used to be and after buying all those birthday presents, there's no money left for me to buy myself a present or two!

So the best I can do is hope for another cool mom to be at the party who wants to get away for a cup of coffee. And force my husband to do the next party.