My New Year's resolution is to be the best mediocre mom. I will never be the best mom, and I don't think I want to compete to be the worst, so an attainable goal seems to be mediocrity. I already have a good start on it. As I type, my son is watching a Clifford video for the umpteenth time while munching on caramel-flavored rice cakes for breakfast. Yep, I'd say this is a goal I most certainly can achieve.
Along those lines (and maybe I'm tipping into the worst category here), one of the days I dread is coming upon us--Vaughn's birthday. Now, it's not that I am loath to celebrate the birth of my son. It is what that entails that I dread. It's the celebration part. Being the introvert that I am and my son being the extravert that I suspect he is, is where we run into problems.
This year, for the third time in a row, he wants a train party, and he wants all the family and friends he doesn't really have to come to our house to celebrate it. I would be more than willing to shell out a couple hundred bucks to just have some children's gym host it and supply cake and ice cream, but noooooo, we have to have yet again a train party. So, here I am, less than 30 days away, wracking my brain as to what we're going to do this year for a train party and how I'm going to accommodate all these people.
Well, this morning, he announces he wants a cat party for his birthday (music to my ears).
"So you want a cat party for your birthday instead of a train party?"
"Well, I want both."
"You can't have both. It's one or the other. Since you have had a train party the last 2 years, how about having a cat party this year?" (desperation dripping from each syllable.)
"Hey, how about we have a cat-driving-a-train party?!"
Great.
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