Sunday, 18 July 2010

Old Mother is Exhausted or Ode to my Six Year Old or No More Real Parties or Birth Control, Why NOT?







It has been the newly six year old's birthday since Thursday.  
The REAL birthday had to be made special so we did the Chuck E. Cheese lunch with his adult age siblings, he went to an afternoon Toy Story 3 showing with his brother, consumed his favorite supper, blew out trick candles on his cake and opened presents. All this between piano lessons, swimming lessons and getting his brother and sister to their activities.


Mom: exhausted.
I am blessed: Friday I did get a massage, but also had MD appointments.  Whatever way you look at it, there was some respite. 
Today was the real party.  His first, that he has been begging for since his 5th birthday when he realized he'd been duped by the fact we invited some family friends over at the last minute.  "That wasn't a real party," I heard the next day. (wow, he's smart for a five year old, I thought)
Today's party was at a pool he'd chosen because of the cool slides.  We invited children I didn't know from the school he just started.  It felt like 100 degrees by 9:00 a.m.   As I walk in, the lead-pool-teenager-guy says our check, that was sent three days ago as instructed, has not arrived.  Oh, yeah, we didn't tell you the right place to send it to, you actually sent it here?  
The lifeguards snarled at me.  None of the staff could muster a smile or a pleasantry. Meanwhile, I, alone, am making trip after trip prying drinks, plates, cups and treats from my Mini Cooper to set up for the party; husband and kids to be arriving in van a bit later.  
The cupcake cake that looked so amazingly cake-like had become disjointed on the ride from the grocer.  The fifteen dollar ballon I bought in a rush, flew off because it wasn't weighted well enough.  Insult to injury?  Only I could hear it shrieking out the happy birthday song, as it made its escape, hence the price, and NO I didn't realize it cost that much until checkout, already running 10 minutes late.
Many of the party goers get there before I have anything laid out or the birthday boy has arrived.  
One kid has to be life-saved by the snarliest of the life guards.  No worries, the kid was fine, just panicked; the dad was sure the fact a bird had just pooped on his own head would totally distract the little guy from his misery and fear.  The lifeguard needed to get off her snarly arse anyway.
Husband left event to go save lives (hey! what about mine) leaving me to field the present opening fiasco, treat the party-goers, pack and clean up, and lead relatives back to our home and then go out and buy KFC (when have I ever?) and lay out a spread and finally relax with my 87 year old Mommy and my daughter and my nieces and sister-in-law to get the woman to woman support that can be like medicine (all the while our smaller ones are running around fueled by sugar).


Mom: exhausted.
I didn't want to ruin his birthday buzz, but I had to sew my mouth shut not to say,hope you enjoyed this because it's the last "real" party you'll be getting in my life time (which at this rate may not be too long to wait).
The little guy is a delight and typically I do not feel like an old parent, but days like these with the running and chaos and frenetic energy permeating our lives?  I have to face it: I'm old to have a six year old. 
Did I mention that yesterday I ran into the doctor who wouldn't let me go on birth control pills because I was too old, while other friends in their 40's were on them?  I had to switch from her, due to good ole managed care, before she knew I was pregnant.  Why, oh why, didn't I think to invite her to today's blessed event?  
It may have helped her with her future judgment: women in 40's, hmmm, birth control or sipping tequila out of their coffee mug-- which is healthier?  (which of course I would NEVER do, but I'm sure many before me have)

1 comment:

  1. This was an awesome column! I laughed out loud. Elise had her last real birthday party this year. At our house, you can have them from age 5 until age 10. I've grown to dislike them so much that this year, when I turned 40, I opted for no party at all. No thanks! Partied out. And, our poor youngest hasn't had a single one yet. Thanks for the laugh. And, you're not old; you're seasoned. Atticus will be the better for it. Hugs to you.

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