Sometimes I think OmegaMom leads a life parallel to mine.
In her post Now we are six, OM can’t seem to come to grips that OmegaDotter is now six. (Happy Birthday Dotter!). Our daughter Em turned six at the end of December and I can’t believe it either. Clearly the pace of life is too quick. I’m constantly reminding myself to make the most of these years. Less griping, more hugging; less reprimanding, more laughing; less cleaning, more cartoon watching together. The dishes get done later. Priorities, priorities.
But also interesting is that because Em’s birthday happens between Christmas and New Years, we usually have a birthday party for her friends right around now. And in fact we’re having one on Sunday too! - eerie isn’t it. And as Omegamom laments the girly-girly, princess Barbie of Fairyland stage (I’ve worn far more than my fair share of hair clips, tiaras and lipgloss in the past year), she also mentions the fact that she’s only got 4 girls who are attending. We’ve got three so far. However I’m not so fair minded about the situation.
It’s not the number that gets me (hey.. I know everyone is busy), but the fact that we’ve got 3 who confirmed that they would attend and only ONE that has responded that they cannot make it, riles me up. There are about 8 others who’ve obviously decided that the RSVP part of the invitation was optional. Pfft!
I’ve long since held the belief that somehow our society - and I’m talking about parents, make no mistake - manages to take fine, young, socially healthy kids and turn them into anti-social, rude and self-centred adults. It’s truly miraculous.
Who holds the door for me when we’re rushing into school in the morning? It’s not little Johnny’s mom who holds the door, it’s little Johnny.
Who says ‘good morning’ or ‘hey, how ya doing’ passing by in the hallways? Not Shayla-Kylie-Ashley-Moonbeam’s daddy. It’s Shayla. Unless of course she’s already had that part of her naturally social demeanour already pressed out of her during her first 5 years of her life.
Parents. I beg of you. Park your big silly SUV’s where you’re clearly told not to park; Shove past me in the hallways without saying ‘excuse me’; Spend 10 minutes just inches from me while we fight with kiddie winter boots without saying a single word; But I beg of you, I plead with you. Just call and say you’re not coming. I don’t care if you have a good excuse or not, I don’t want an excuse, I just want some common courtesy!
Breathe.. breathe.. breathe..
Here’s some relief: Rabbit of Seville
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