Today, I hosted my son's birthday brunch with his Friday morning playgroup-- ALL BOYS. This would be his second first birthday party-- complete with streamers, balloons, party favors, and more CAKE!
Actually, I left the streamers up from his first "First Birthday" party two weeks ago up. Since then, I have refused having over anyone who attended that first party for fear of my being mistaken for Mrs. Havisham.
I swear, I don't have a decaying birthday cake hiding in my house somewhere.... Honest.
After promising weeks upon weeks ago to help with the party, my husband informed me (as he was leaving this morning) that he couldn't stay...
WHAT?!!! Six tiny destroyers and their mommies were due to arrive at my house at any moment. We just ran out of coffee, my son was getting into everything, and the fruit that I had repeatedly asked my husband to cut up for the party last night was still intact....
Okay. Breathe. Not a problem. Besides, it's starting to rain and playgroup usually gets started late anyway. We still have time. No one will get here until....
... and that's when the doorball rang.
Of course, everyone arrived for our party EARLY. I suppose the e-mail I sent a few days ago with directions and asking them to "come hungry" was the proper motivation to get everyone "up and at 'em "on an otherwise dreary day.
Ah, or maybe they heard rumors about the FABULOUS parties I throw and couldn't wait to experience every minute of the fun... No?
Okay, fine... Maybe they were just hungry and there were promises made of homemade baked goods, fresh coffee, juices, and delicious breakfast casserole.
My son attended another little boy's first birthday party yesterday and was clearly over the entire concept by this morning. Presents, "Happy-Birthday-to-you", a cake, a candle... yeah, yeah, yeah. Been there, done that, thankyouverymuch.
He was totally unimpressed with his cake and started crying when I wouldn't let him touch the burning candle. In frustration, he turned away to hide. This is while people were still singing to him, by the way.
His tantrum undaunted by the piece of cake placed in front of him, my son continued to wail and scream until I picked him up, frosting-filled hands and all. With smeared cake on my shirt and in my hair, I had no choice but to take him into another room while our guests fended for themselves. They did just fine; I wouldn't have expected anything less from a group of mommies...
Toys were strewn about every which way throughout my house and one child perprtually crying for the one toy another had. Each boy being in a different stage of seperation anxiety, there was always one looking for his mommy and one mommy always looking for a sippy cup, a shoe, or a wet wipe. There were noses to be wiped and diapers be to changed. With one little guy opening my oven, another digging in the kitchen trash, and yet another trying to break the baby-proofing... I was about to kill my husband for leaving for work today.
As one point in the party, the boys were happily playing together and one of the moms made a comment about "our babies." Another mom corrected her, reminding all of us that they are not babies any more. They are clearly little boys.
As they gather around my son's play table, each one completely focused on his own little thing and looking so much like his respective dad, it was like spying on a little man convention. I swear I just brought home a 6 pounds, 6 ounce baby the other day.
And that's why I do it...
After promising weeks upon weeks ago to help with the party, my husband informed me (as he was leaving this morning) that he couldn't stay...
WHAT?!!! Six tiny destroyers and their mommies were due to arrive at my house at any moment. We just ran out of coffee, my son was getting into everything, and the fruit that I had repeatedly asked my husband to cut up for the party last night was still intact....
Okay. Breathe. Not a problem. Besides, it's starting to rain and playgroup usually gets started late anyway. We still have time. No one will get here until....
... and that's when the doorball rang.
Of course, everyone arrived for our party EARLY. I suppose the e-mail I sent a few days ago with directions and asking them to "come hungry" was the proper motivation to get everyone "up and at 'em "on an otherwise dreary day.
Ah, or maybe they heard rumors about the FABULOUS parties I throw and couldn't wait to experience every minute of the fun... No?
Okay, fine... Maybe they were just hungry and there were promises made of homemade baked goods, fresh coffee, juices, and delicious breakfast casserole.
My son attended another little boy's first birthday party yesterday and was clearly over the entire concept by this morning. Presents, "Happy-Birthday-to-you", a cake, a candle... yeah, yeah, yeah. Been there, done that, thankyouverymuch.
He was totally unimpressed with his cake and started crying when I wouldn't let him touch the burning candle. In frustration, he turned away to hide. This is while people were still singing to him, by the way.
His tantrum undaunted by the piece of cake placed in front of him, my son continued to wail and scream until I picked him up, frosting-filled hands and all. With smeared cake on my shirt and in my hair, I had no choice but to take him into another room while our guests fended for themselves. They did just fine; I wouldn't have expected anything less from a group of mommies...
Toys were strewn about every which way throughout my house and one child perprtually crying for the one toy another had. Each boy being in a different stage of seperation anxiety, there was always one looking for his mommy and one mommy always looking for a sippy cup, a shoe, or a wet wipe. There were noses to be wiped and diapers be to changed. With one little guy opening my oven, another digging in the kitchen trash, and yet another trying to break the baby-proofing... I was about to kill my husband for leaving for work today.
As one point in the party, the boys were happily playing together and one of the moms made a comment about "our babies." Another mom corrected her, reminding all of us that they are not babies any more. They are clearly little boys.
As they gather around my son's play table, each one completely focused on his own little thing and looking so much like his respective dad, it was like spying on a little man convention. I swear I just brought home a 6 pounds, 6 ounce baby the other day.
And that's why I do it...
1 comment:
Just wanted you to know about a site I developed called www.momsofboys.org - this also features my blog in addition to the many links and resources for moms of boys. There is a page about my humor book --House of Testosterone - One Mom's Survival in a Household of Males.
I'd love to connect with other bloggers and sites in any way I can.
Thanks,
Sharon
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