Why I’ll Never Win an Award for Parenting

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For weeks we’ve been prepping Sweetie Darling for the upcoming 3rd birthday.  He knew when he hit three there was something he’d be losing.  It was so ingrained in that little boy head you could say, “SD how old will you be on your birthday?”  And, the response was, “Three. sigh No more paci. sniff.” He knew it was coming.  He was prepared.  But, that didn’t mean we thought it would go smoothly.

Over this last weekend, he actually began to tell us he no longer wanted a party at all.  “No Chuck E party.  I’m two.  I stay two.” And, we read between the lines.  He didn’t want to “turn 3″ for the sake of his pacifier.  What just shy of 3 year old does not want a party at Chuck E Cheese?  Does that show you the importance of the paci?

Although the birthday is not officially until Sunday, knowing Puppy will be in Beantown all next week meant we chose to take it on the day of his party (today) as opposed to me getting to have the job all by my lonesome.  I may be a klutzy ditz with a fat arse, but I ain’t a stupid broad.

Last night we told him it was the last time.  This morning he helped me place it in an envelope.  He licked it himself.  He knew it was going to the “paci fairy” who would give it to a new little boy in need.  All fine and dandy until naptime rolls ’round.  And, when I realize I’m the putz who gets the job of being the mean parent (bastard Puppy!) all alone.  

It’s the high point of allergy season here.  Everything that is blooming (which is practically ALL things bright and beautiful, all creatures great & small) is shedding that lovely yellow pollen all over creation.  In our family, despite the constant popping of Allegra & Singulair, we’re all pretty sneezy.  I doped the kid up with Dimetap, partially to combat the nose, partially to combat the tears I knew I’d encounter.  I know.  I know.  My stay in purgatory will be long and hard and no doubt spent with someone truly heinous like my FIL, but I can’t handle tears easily.

He walked in his room & got his two lovies he sleeps with…then he asked for it.  Then, the realization hit.  And, the tears began.  I read about 11 books.  I heard the sobs.  “But I NEEEEEDDD my paci.”  I think I heard that a hundred times.  And, I remained firm.  “You know YOU put it in the envelope.  YOU licked it.”  The psychologists say to make sure they realize you didn’t take it from them, so I kept up with the you.  Oh, dear God the tears.  I am down here in my bed & I can still hear sniffles and sobs above me.  Oh, the horrors of party day.  Please let my baby boy come through this without needing therapy.

I’ll be giving you pictures from the Chuck E party for WW.  Stay tuned.  And, wish me luck and a prayer or eighty that tonight goes better than naptime did.

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Filed under 3 Ring Circus, Bad Mommy, Crazy Tyke God Gave Me, End of an Era, The Joys of Motherhood, birthday woes