My Wee One is 3 years old and she received her first birthday party invite (from a family member). My first reaction was, “NO WAY!” It requires a three-hour drive into the Bay State, spending a lovely Spring afternoon inside a VFW-type building and imposing upon my wonderful in-laws for room and board. But I think the overriding thought about my most uncharitable feeling toward this invite is the thought of time with all those children.
I’m one of those mothers who loves my child but I’m not one to love other people’s children. When my daughter was a baby, mothers came up to me in restaurants, cooed over my child and asked,
“How old is she?”
“Is she sleeping through the night?”
I politely answered their questions. Because it seemed pro-forma, I politely asked about their kids but I would forget their answers within seconds.
Yes, I know I’m exposing myself to all sorts of negative commentary but I’m writing what I’m feeling. I just need to get it out.
Well, to end this diatribe, I have decided to take the Wee One to her first birthday party because I know she’s going to have a blast and I’m going to have a great time with family.
Rant mode: OFF.