Girls, remind me that I may possibly live under a rock, but did you know there are companies you can buy loot bags from that have no junk in them? They are full of eco friendly, sweet swag to pass along to the nine hundred hoodlums up in your house for a birthday bash. Now, don't get me wrong, it stinks like sour milk piling junk up, but I'm from the old school era of party planners. Yeah, super old school, Little House on the Prairie like because neighbors are too far to invite (or because my give a hoot level is set to low.) If there is a junk bag, I mean loot bag in the house, it's probably my kid's birthday present.
|Who needs the three hundred dollar walker? A good old fashioned vacuum cleaner will do just fine. Folks, can she hang for eight seconds? Form is excellent, but this one bucks.|
Did you also know that you could place your child, basically when they exit the womb, for a mere seventy zillion smackeroos, into just about anything you like? Kinder-music, swimming lessons, Francais for babies, pig latin for preschoolers and a lil yoga for everyone to calm the sweet marie down from their over scheduled lives.
Reading this paper exhausted me. Seriously. I think I was so danged afraid for an odd two seconds that I was doing a disservice to my child for not being enrolled in, well, anything. Once that two seconds had passed, I dropped the paper on the ground and closed my eyes because I was feeling like I was trapped on a treadmill thinking about all this.
If recollection serves me right, in our area there is minimal you can pack the babes up and go to. There are a few churches that have mornings where mom's can get together, guzzle some coffee, peel their eyes open and commiserate with one another. I'm a little, ahem, old fashioned and just like to have the mom from down the road pop in and hide with her in the closet and eat our cupcakes because we don't want the children to see and make us share. Some people knock being rural, because there just aren't the "options," I see it as some mercy on my blessed heart. I would possibly go cr-azy thinking of where to best spend my time and moolah, all the while chanting in my mind, "this is for her best! This IS for her best!"
|Don't listen to me, I can't even get pants on my kid. I tell you though, we are all pretty smitten with one another and have some of the most fun days around. Pants? So overrated.|
In my younger years, we played a bit of t-ball when we hit the age we could. Other than that, it was head outside and construct a fort, play with your sister, dig in the rocks, help mom with work in the house. Life was fun, life was care free, and heck yes, we were thrilled when cousins came over to play, because it was a treat. We were kids that were left to be kids.
I know some are wired differently than others, some might not have that anxiety I have if my floor isn't vacuumed into perfect lines-this takes time people. Some might not have that lazy bone I like to hang onto, allowing me to sit down with a book in the afternoon. Other mom's like to ward off the insanity by getting out once in awhile, but ladies, just don't you forget, your kids are doing just fine learning to play with their big old imagination station locked up in the noggin. At the end of the day, they want YOU. Shocking, isn't it? They don't want sixty two play centers to rotate through. They are alright if they can't say bonjour, hola, and what's up. They want to hear I love you. They want MOM to read them a story, to shush them, to set out the chairs to make a fort in while you scrub the floor.
Take a breather peeps, this life goes by way too fast to always be hopping in the vehicle and roaring about. If you do happen to be trapped in the van, stop on by, kettle is on and we can fill reusable bags with rocks, sticks, and other earthy stuff to fool folks into buying for their birthday party.