I guess it must have made you feel good to calmly walk across the carpeted floor of the library, lean down so your face was an inch away from my two year old sons, bring your finger up to your lips and "shhhh" my child as he was crying in his stroller.
I guess it must have made you feel really good to know that while he was in his stroller fussing because he was most likely tired from being carted around all morning by a mom who has no other choice but to run errands with her kids, that he had no idea what you were trying to communicate to him with your old, wrinkly, faded yellow nail, finger.
I guess you feel that a COMMUNITY library is only open to the meek and quiet, unobtrusive children that don't ever fuss or make any kind of noise whatsoever. Apparently the COMMUNITY library is not really a community at all in your mind.
I guess you must have felt some sort of obligation to turn around as you were walking away from my son and put your finger up to your mouth and "shhhh," him again in front of the 25 other people that were researching, reading and talking. All the while this mom was trying to locate a relevant book for my other job, in between loads of laundry, meal time, nap time and diaper changes ,while simultaneously wheeling twins in a stroller and explaining to my five year old that we can look at the DVD section in "just a few minutes."
I guess it must have made you feel really great to have my son start wailing because a strange man walked up to him and wagged his finger in his face, thus accomplishing your goal of having 20 heads turn in my direction as I got up, fighting back tears and left the library with my three kids in tow and my five year old asking, why are we leaving mommy? in a five year old level of voice that has no regard for how loud he is in the midst of a crowd.
And I bet you must have felt AWESOME knowing that you made your life a little easier because now you didn't have to listen to a two year old fuss in a stroller. But instead this mom had to walk out with a now wailing child, as heads turned with each roll of the wheels as we exited out the door, humiliated and so angry that the only option I had was to leave, as I stared down at the blue faded handles of my double wide, garage sale stroller.
But best of all, I'm glad that you now have your peace and quiet as I buckle my kids into the car, with one twin screaming and the other close to wailing and my five year old repeatedly asking me "mommy, why are you crying?" because I can barely see the buckles of the car seat and I am counting the seconds until I can close all the doors and windows and really start sobbing.
So, Crotchety Old Library Man, I have news for you. The library of today is not the library of 30 years ago, where children weren't welcome and silence was golden. The library is called a COMMUNITY library for a reason. So the sooner you stop waving your finger in unassuming children's faces so you can stop releasing into your Depends and finish your Anne Landers advice column the better. Because the last time I checked, I paid my taxes that support our public library and on a side note will cover your butt if it happens to fall over in front of said library and you break a hip that your medicare/medicaid won't cover.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Birthday Parties: To do or not to do?
18 kids: 15 boys and 3 girls. This was the number after we significantly paired down the list of invitees. It was my son's 5th birthday party and we had planned an outdoor "extravaganza," complete with a bean bag and balloon toss, topped off with a build your own sundae ending. I was quite sure this birthday would go down as the best party my son had ever had. Of course, every kid's birthday party is never complete without a theme. A theme, you say? Do you really need a theme for a five - year old birthday party????
Oh yes, one must have a theme. Theme - related decorations, party favors, invitations, cake, thank you cards, etc. etc. You get the picture. I had even been to a one - year old birthday party set to the theme of the Wizard of Oz. Both parents were resplendent in their scarecrow and Dorothy costumes and the poor clueless, not -quite toddler looked about as comfortable as an over -stuffed potato, dressed as the "cowardly lion." This themed party left no detail overlooked as they even had their poor dog dressed as "to-to." The animal was even wearing a blanket embroidered with the ever famous dog's name on the side in gold letters, ostensibly to represent following the yellow brick road, I assume. Someone, most likely an overzealous grandmom, had even taken the time to create ruby -colored slippers to put on the birthday boy's feet. The only problem occurred when the dog spent the whole time trying to chew off the baby's feet due to the obvious attraction of sparkly slippers. Never mind the fact that the parent's were definitely going to have to shell out some serious therapy coin in a few years when the kid looks back and wonder's why his parents made him wear sparkly, red slippers to his own party.
Meanwhile the party members kept finding slobber - covered shoes in varied places throughout the house. There's nothing like reaching into your purse for a pair of keys to finally get out of the over-glitzed party and encountering a wet, slobbery mess of ruby - colored slippers with glitter all over the inside of your handbag.
Needless to say, some birthday's can go a little too far in the quest to create a memorable event for our children. Case in point, my own son's birthday.
Now I had done all of the legwork, planning and preparation. I had made my trip to Party City, ordered the cake, created a time-line for where and when to stage each event, and had even come up with an alternative plan in case of rain. What I had not anticipated, was the monsoon that opened up approximately 15 minutes before our party was supposed to begin. As the first guest drove up and shielded her son from the gale force winds and the rain literally blowing sideways, my husband and I looked at each other in complete and utter panic. Both of us were thinking:
18 kids: 15 boys and 3 girls in our house all at the same time. What the heck were we were going to do?
Well, at 2:55, we had finished all of our games and were desparately trying to fill the hour left in the party. So we had our son open his presents, which took us to 3:15. At that point, I got desparate and I'm ashamed to say, totally threw my husband under the bus.
I cornered him in the laundry room and told him we had to take drastic measures.
"Look, I said, I have an idea for a game, but it will require some flexibility on your part." He immediately began to look uncomfortable and I hadn't even told him what the idea was yet.
"We have 45 minutes left and the kids are going crazy in there. Just listen to them! " We could hear the little monkeys jumping off the sofa on to the pillows in the family room and I'm pretty sure all the girls were huddled in a corner holding each other and crying in fear of the garrulousness of 15 unsupervised five - year old boys.
"We've got to act quickly. I'm going to cut a stocking and put it over your head. Then I'm going to wrap your head in duct tape, sticky side out and throw 5o plastic spoons on the carpet in the playroom. While I'm doing this, I'll have my mom pass out some paper and pens and have each kid guess how many spoons you can pick up with your duct tape head. What do you think?"
It was at that point, that I'm pretty sure my husband seriously considered divorce. I could see him turning it over in his head, leave the wife and kids, drive off in a car some where or allow the 15 boys to continue to destroy our house.
"No way, can't we just serve the cake and juice? That should fill the last 45 minutes."
I just looked at him. "Are you serious, get them hopped up on more sugar???? They'll be done eating cake in 10 minutes and the sugar will hit their bloodstream in about 5 seconds after that. You know, come to think of it, I saw Jake eyeing up your baseball, you know the one on the shelf?"
And that was all it took, one reference to his prized baseball that he had caught at a Phillies game last year and he was on board.
"Look, I'll do it, but you owe me BIG for this one."
I decided not to contemplate the ramifications of what that statement could possible entail and ran upstairs to cut one of my stockings. I apprised my mom of the situation and with raised eyebrows she herded the kids into the play room.
As I wrapped my husband's head in duct tape, I could hear my mom saying, " Here comes Mr. Duct - tape head...get ready and see how many spoons he can pick up."
"Great," my husband said, "Now I have a name that I can take back to the office with me. Yo, what's up duct -tape head?"
" Just play it up, the kids will LOVE it." I myself could barely keep myself from breaking out in laughter as I looked at the final product.
There he was, my 6' 2"saint of a husband, his head wrapped in duct tape getting ready to make his son's day by humiliating himself for the sake of all things birthday.
"Go, get 'em tiger," I laughed.
As I grabbed the video camera and watched my husband roll around on the floor trying to pick up spoons with his head, with his shirt riding up to expose his belly, I realized what sacrifice truly is in a marriage.
And by the way, it's been one month since his party and I'm still working on the thank you notes...
Oh yes, one must have a theme. Theme - related decorations, party favors, invitations, cake, thank you cards, etc. etc. You get the picture. I had even been to a one - year old birthday party set to the theme of the Wizard of Oz. Both parents were resplendent in their scarecrow and Dorothy costumes and the poor clueless, not -quite toddler looked about as comfortable as an over -stuffed potato, dressed as the "cowardly lion." This themed party left no detail overlooked as they even had their poor dog dressed as "to-to." The animal was even wearing a blanket embroidered with the ever famous dog's name on the side in gold letters, ostensibly to represent following the yellow brick road, I assume. Someone, most likely an overzealous grandmom, had even taken the time to create ruby -colored slippers to put on the birthday boy's feet. The only problem occurred when the dog spent the whole time trying to chew off the baby's feet due to the obvious attraction of sparkly slippers. Never mind the fact that the parent's were definitely going to have to shell out some serious therapy coin in a few years when the kid looks back and wonder's why his parents made him wear sparkly, red slippers to his own party.
Meanwhile the party members kept finding slobber - covered shoes in varied places throughout the house. There's nothing like reaching into your purse for a pair of keys to finally get out of the over-glitzed party and encountering a wet, slobbery mess of ruby - colored slippers with glitter all over the inside of your handbag.
Needless to say, some birthday's can go a little too far in the quest to create a memorable event for our children. Case in point, my own son's birthday.
Now I had done all of the legwork, planning and preparation. I had made my trip to Party City, ordered the cake, created a time-line for where and when to stage each event, and had even come up with an alternative plan in case of rain. What I had not anticipated, was the monsoon that opened up approximately 15 minutes before our party was supposed to begin. As the first guest drove up and shielded her son from the gale force winds and the rain literally blowing sideways, my husband and I looked at each other in complete and utter panic. Both of us were thinking:
18 kids: 15 boys and 3 girls in our house all at the same time. What the heck were we were going to do?
Well, at 2:55, we had finished all of our games and were desparately trying to fill the hour left in the party. So we had our son open his presents, which took us to 3:15. At that point, I got desparate and I'm ashamed to say, totally threw my husband under the bus.
I cornered him in the laundry room and told him we had to take drastic measures.
"Look, I said, I have an idea for a game, but it will require some flexibility on your part." He immediately began to look uncomfortable and I hadn't even told him what the idea was yet.
"We have 45 minutes left and the kids are going crazy in there. Just listen to them! " We could hear the little monkeys jumping off the sofa on to the pillows in the family room and I'm pretty sure all the girls were huddled in a corner holding each other and crying in fear of the garrulousness of 15 unsupervised five - year old boys.
"We've got to act quickly. I'm going to cut a stocking and put it over your head. Then I'm going to wrap your head in duct tape, sticky side out and throw 5o plastic spoons on the carpet in the playroom. While I'm doing this, I'll have my mom pass out some paper and pens and have each kid guess how many spoons you can pick up with your duct tape head. What do you think?"
It was at that point, that I'm pretty sure my husband seriously considered divorce. I could see him turning it over in his head, leave the wife and kids, drive off in a car some where or allow the 15 boys to continue to destroy our house.
"No way, can't we just serve the cake and juice? That should fill the last 45 minutes."
I just looked at him. "Are you serious, get them hopped up on more sugar???? They'll be done eating cake in 10 minutes and the sugar will hit their bloodstream in about 5 seconds after that. You know, come to think of it, I saw Jake eyeing up your baseball, you know the one on the shelf?"
And that was all it took, one reference to his prized baseball that he had caught at a Phillies game last year and he was on board.
"Look, I'll do it, but you owe me BIG for this one."
I decided not to contemplate the ramifications of what that statement could possible entail and ran upstairs to cut one of my stockings. I apprised my mom of the situation and with raised eyebrows she herded the kids into the play room.
As I wrapped my husband's head in duct tape, I could hear my mom saying, " Here comes Mr. Duct - tape head...get ready and see how many spoons he can pick up."
"Great," my husband said, "Now I have a name that I can take back to the office with me. Yo, what's up duct -tape head?"
" Just play it up, the kids will LOVE it." I myself could barely keep myself from breaking out in laughter as I looked at the final product.
There he was, my 6' 2"saint of a husband, his head wrapped in duct tape getting ready to make his son's day by humiliating himself for the sake of all things birthday.
"Go, get 'em tiger," I laughed.
As I grabbed the video camera and watched my husband roll around on the floor trying to pick up spoons with his head, with his shirt riding up to expose his belly, I realized what sacrifice truly is in a marriage.
And by the way, it's been one month since his party and I'm still working on the thank you notes...
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