a deep reflection on my mediocre parenting skills.

4 Aug

I had a camp reunion last night so probably some people are only going to be reading this so they can get juicy gossip, like was dancing on the bar and who went home with whom and who looked like shit and who was a douchebag this time, but I don’t really feel like divulging any such information just yet. I need more time to let it all marinate before I analyze the evening. Plus I want to rope you into reading about other parts of my life, you egomaniac. It’s not all about you. Get over yourself. And please stop reading my blog on the toilet, it’s kind of awkward.

So tomorrow is my babygirl’s 2nd birthday. I feel like it’s right about now that I really have to start parenting, instead of just going with the progressional flow, which is basically what I’ve been doing for the past 1 year, 11 months and 30 days or whatever. It’s not that I want to, but she probably isn’t going to raise herself in the way that she’s been doing so far. Like, for the longest time I’ve been putting her in her crib and she just goes to sleep. There is literally nothing I do except turn her little noise machine on to the sound of the waves. And she can even do that now, so my one responsibility became sort of unnecessary as far as the bedtime hour goes. But now I probably have to do things like get her a big girl bed and maybe a pillow and/or blanket. Other things I’ll have to start doing is crazy tedious – sign her up for nursery school which starts in like a week, get her to stop peeing in a diaper and teach her that sprinting away from your loved ones in crowded malls is unacceptable behavior unless you have an alternate ride home. Oh jeez, she’s already getting rides home from the mall? Where the fuck is the time going? I feel like it was earlier this afternoon that I was flipping through “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” trying to find an answer to whether or not my kid would be born with hair because I had so much heartburn. (Yes, she was born with hair. No, I do not miss Tums.) Now she’s tramping it up on (play)dates with all these little baby dudes and going shopping and walking on the balance beam (yes I’m going to exploit her because I want my kid to be worth $9 million in endorsements whether or not she needs to leave the state to make that happen). I feel like I just want to slow down and make time stop so I can take it all in.

Well, maybe time can stop on Sunday, because her birthday party is giving me so much anxiety that the 14 Xanax I popped a little while ago aren’t even making a dent. I mean, I’m totally hallucinating right now and I’m typing while standing on my head and the cat keeps asking me if I’ve got a light, but other than that, seriously they have no effect. I don’t understand why my family is unable to throw a low key party. People do it all the time. They go to a restaurant and they sit at a table and have a meal and everyone goes home. That’s all I wanted. Actually, I really didn’t want a party at all. What the hell does my babygirl know? Is she going to turn 13 and be like “Fuck you mom, you didn’t throw me a 2nd birthday party. I wanted to play paintball and you shafted me. You’re a bitch and I never want to talk to you again” and then get in the car with some 17 year old from LA who wants to take pictures of her for his photography portfolio? Maybe, but you can’t live your life in fear. Not that it matters, because my nonexistent party turned into a circus once again. Why does every party have to be a fabulous soiree?

Oh, that’s right, because I’m an ass kicking party planner and Harry goes along with whatever I want because he’s smart like that. And my parents like to have parties at their house because my dad has a gardening fetish and my mom likes to give gardening tours culminating in a hand-picked lunch of cherry tomatoes and string beans. So weather permitting, that is what will go down tomorrow. This party wound up being low key. It’s pretty ghetto in fact. So ghetto that I ordered the cake from a bakery and used a matchy matchy Party City pattern (peace owls, which I have to admit is cute even if it is mass produced  and totally unoriginal). Normally if the theme were peace and owls we would have an actual owl at the party, embroider owls into the tablecloths and hire a John Lennon impersonator. But like I said, low key.

Luckily my dad has some totally homosexual hat that he bought in the Caribbean, so nobody will notice that the strings on the balloons aren’t color coordinated with the liner in the bread basket. I mean, I’ll know and it will be somewhat devastating but I will probably survive. I’m dressing my babygirl in one of those cotton candy looking tutus that those British girls on the Ellen Show wear (ugh I like totally wish my kid were British it would be so awesome). Harry thinks she’s wearing a polo shirt and patchwork Ralph Lauren shorts because his only request this year was that she dress like a normal human being and not a pom pom. But what fun is giving him what he wants? Then he might get used to it and I’m like totally fucked.

Tonight to celebrate my daughter’s coming of age, I did what any responsible adult would do. We got matching tattoos!!!! They’re little peace signs on our feet and they’re justalittlebit crooked and I love love love them and so does she. Even though they’re going to wash off in 1-3 showers, I still feel like I’m influencing her in all the right ways, and I can already tell that she’s cooler than me, which I didn’t even think was possible.

ps. Dearest daughter. One day you will be old enough to read mommy’s posts. You shouldn’t curse this much, it isn’t ladylike. Other than that your mommy is perfect so do everything she does unless it’s illegal and then just don’t get caught. All my love, Mommy.

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2 Responses to “a deep reflection on my mediocre parenting skills.”

  1. SUSAN August 4, 2012 at 8:53 pm #

    Happy 2nd Birthday to Shelby’s babygirl. You will look beautiful in your tutu.

  2. Lindsey August 6, 2012 at 1:53 pm #

    Outstanding bash Shel…really. Though in retrospect I would have sincerely appreciated a John Lennon impersonator… next time, maybe? xx.

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