Today my Moms Club had their annual Valentine’s party. Valentine’s Day is a difficult holiday for me, basically because I think it’s a load of crap. Yes, I know the history of the holiday and still firmly believe it’s a holiday that’s been over hyped by the greeting card companies to sell some dead trees greeting cards. I mean, St. Valentine? I’m not even Catholic.
It’s a fun holiday for the kids, because it breaks of the dry spell of no-candy between Christmas and Easter. Sure, the cards are important too, but truly it wasn’t the Dora Valentine’s Day card that made Connor’s eye’s glaze over with love, as much as it was the heart shaped sucker stuck to the front with Scotch tape.
The party was held at a local sweet shop that makes their own confections. The kids got to dip marshmallows in chocolate and run around peering at the display cases. It smelled like heaven. There were chocolates in hands reach that could just be plucked off of the table for purchase. It sounds like the only thing that could complete this party is a bunch of live bunnies and bluebirds, but while it sounds like a good time. For me. It was just a little slice of hell.
I had both of the boys with me. I had critically arranged napping and snack schedules to promote the best mood and best behavior at this event. You don’t want my boys running around anywhere with low blood sugar. Ohno. My intentions while good, did nothing to prevent the proverbial road to hell from being paved. Tristan weights 26 lbs and was held almost the entire time we were at the party. Thank God, I don’t work the mouse with my left arm or I wouldn’t be able to post this entry as it’s still burning from over an hour of holding 26 lbs of straining, wiggling baby yearning to be free. He wanted down so badly, because he could see that Connor was touching EVERYTHING and he wanted some of THAT action.
“Look at that! Connor just made Mommy purchase a $2.00 chocolate baseball glove by pulling it off the counter and (lovingly) rubbing it with his fingers! I’m in!”
So, I would let Tristan down, he would run one way, Connor would run the other and I’d have to make a split second choice of which one to follow based on individual calculations including, proximity to other Moms, (Moms that I though might actually stop a child from climbing on top of a display case), the door to the parking lot and the tables filled with bowls (unattended) of liquid chocolate for dipping. There was only one other person there that has two children close to my kids age and when I looked up to see her, she was gone. She was smart.
As soon as I finally wrangled my two little ones and got them strapped into the car, Connor announced that he had to go potty, oh wait, no he didn’t anymore, but a clean diaper might be nice. I was ready to cry.
And this is what I determined from this experience.
I’m done.
Done with anything that involves the following:
- My two children unrestrained in a public place
- Any public place where there is anything below 3 feet that can be broken, eaten or otherwise forced for me to purchase due to one of the former actions
Not forever, just until this stage is a little more manageable. Now, this doesn’t cramp my lifestyle much since we don’t do a whole lot of eating in restaurants, going to movies or well, anything else, but at least I’ve seen the truth. I can’t be two places at once. And there’s no point in sacrificing my sanity trying.
Ya know, sometimes giving up, feels pretty damn good.
No comments:
Post a Comment