I was notified by my web host that my contract would be ending soon and I began the debate of letting the domain name go and switching to a free platform. I did the same thing a few years ago with a previous blog, I’m not sure why I thought blogging would be different this time around. Apparently I didn’t know better and do better. I do love blogging though.
I began reading some of my past posts and I realized that there were some things that I did learn about myself, keeping with the theme of When I Knew Better, I Did Better.
This post was originally posted 2013.
I was reading a blog this morning in which a mommyblogger was discussing play dates. O.K., I skimmed it, I’m very much removed from the whole playdate issue. I wanted to post a comment and tell her that she should wait until they are teenagers and no matter how much prepping and threatening you do, you’ll find yourself picking your kid up from a sleepover looking like they were beaten on a rock. THEN, despite the fact you were assured that there would be no drinking, Mom and Dad were going to be home, because you’ve actually spoken to the Mom and she actually parrots the same parental concerns, and there are no male species sleeping over. You will discover that there was indeed drinking, there was a coed sleep over, and your 18 year old is nursing their first hangover, and has come to the conclusion that drinking is bad and tequila is worse.
The post did however flash me back to the days of playdates with my own children. At 3 Beth was invited to a birthday party which struck me as slightly ridiculous. Mom was bragging that she had invited every little girl in the nursery school. 15 little girls aged 3 and 4. My first though was she was nuts. It was also my second and third thought. I didn’t know this woman and Beth didn’t have much nice to say about her daughter, but she was excited about being invited to a birthday party. At the time I was a little tentative about letting her go, I spoke to the Mom, she was excited about hosting a birthday party for her daughter and had big plans involving glitter, which made me question her sanity right there. I spoke to the nursery school teacher who laughed when I mentioned all the little girls were invited, but she said something that stuck with me through the years. She said, ‘You are the only advocate for your daughter’. She was right.
I guess the moral of the story was that do the best you can, in the end you are raising the little people to be adults and make good decisions. Newsflash, sometimes they won’t. And the birthday party? When I picked Beth up she was toting a bag of sugar and a smile, but the Mom looked like she had been beaten against a rock.