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.
My feeling about Toddler Birthday Parties
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.
I know a family who have eleven kids. Two of the kids are out of the house and one is in college. Their youngest is just over a year old. Granted, in today’s culture, having eleven kids makes most folks eye’s bug out and…federal agencies…
Today, the husband had to take the day off from work because the IRS was auditing him. The reason? One person could not have THAT many children to claim as a deduction. He had to bring birth certificates and other documents as proof.
What a waste of taxpayer money, a loss to the employer in missed work and one less holiday/personal day for the husband. Have other people experienced this? I don’t think Tim Geithner had to…
This weekend I had a jolly time in Vacationland. I did so much that I’ll be splitting my posts about the trip. This first post is about an event that happened one hour after I arrived at Augusta Bro’s home.
Brother received a phone call from a next door neighbor. The conversation went like this:
“I just saw three kids jump your fence. They’re in your backyard.”
“Good. I’ll release the dogs.” (BTW: The dogs are all bark and no bite.)
“No. Don’t do that. They’re young. Like 8.”
“I want to scare them.”
Brother heads to the sizable backyard which is enclosed by a metal linked fence meant to keep the dogs from running all over the neighborhood. Brother spots the trespassers. They are about 8 years old (two boys, one girl) and have chosen the highest point in the whole yard to escape. The boys have made it over but the girl is still climbing.
At this point the “vicious” dogs have are barking at the girl and she is frozen at the top of the fence (which is chest high for you and me). Acting tough, brother says,
“You know you’re not supposed to be here. The fence is to protect you from the dogs.”
“I know that now….Can you help me?”
At that moment Brother realizes that the girl (who needs to climb more fences in her life, if you know what I mean) doesn’t have the strength to pull herself over. Her two buddies are standing in the middle of the street.
Not doing a bloody thing.
Brother is able to move her carcass over the fence and the three delinquents return to their journey. Lesson learned.