This past week, Ali had to be out of town on business, and I had the pleasure of the girls’ company for a night. Story was excited to have a sleepover, and I made plans to have a little slumber party in the living room. While I always want the girls to have fun when they’re all together, I made a crucial mistake in my planning. I viewed Riley and Maddie as guests.
Posts by Lesley Bolton:
On the very first day of summer vacation, the Little Shit struck again.
We were at my parents’ house, and Brooke, Dad, and I were taking turns push-mowing the yard. (Dad has developed an old-man obsession with the yard. His riding mower needed a new part, and he simply couldn’t wait.) So, we were all covered in grass clippings, and Brooke’s feet were green, thanks to the flip-flops she was wearing. We were relaxing on the porch, just enjoying the afternoon, and suddenly summer was shattered.
Ali and I are both firm believers in “It takes a village.” We’re lucky in that we have supportive families and friends and, of course, each other. However, I’ll be the first to admit that I lost friends after becoming a mother. My priorities changed, and if the friend didn’t have children, she and I seemed to speak a different language. I was exhausted, and the very last thing I wanted to do at the end of the day was get ready to go out somewhere. Eventually, I turned down enough invitations that I just wasn’t invited anymore. In my mind, that was okay though. How could I talk to someone who didn’t have children, didn’t understand? Now I know that my justification was simply ridiculous.
I’m not always sentimental about things. I couldn’t wait to get rid of Story’s bassinet and baby clothes. Most of her artwork has found its way to the recycle bin. And when I’m in purge mode, nothing is safe. However, I have a very strong attachment to one particular piece of furniture: the recliner.
Family is fabulous. Friends are fabulous. Fairy gardens are fabulous. So how could my fortieth birthday party be anything less than fabulous? Well, there was the fact that I waited waaaay too long to secure a caterer and a cake (much to Ali’s ire, which, I’m not ashamed to say, brought me a bit of glee). My house wasn’t in shape at all to receive guests the day before. Oh, and I had given up on the outside long before. Anyone daring to come through the front door was at the mercy of overgrown shrubs. There was a 100% chance of rain. And I had a difficult time finding just the right things for the make-your-own-fairy-garden party favors.