This week is finally starting to feel like spring in Salem, the weather is nice, trees filling in, flowers blooming and a stab of fear enters my heart. This means May will be soon. May is the month my son was born and that means birthday party. If I were a creative, crafty mother this would be a wonderful time for me. I am not. I cannot stitch or sew, paint or shellac, nor can I even create anything out of my garbage but more garbage.
I am also not exactly known as the social mom type either. Its been awhile since I have bit or chased the mailman but I am still not one of the cool popular parents, in fact I am probably the odd neighbor everyone talks about. Mark will always have a theme in mind that is never in style, cannot be found anywhere and has to be personally created at great expense to my sanity. He wants to invite his whole class and all the kids he knows and likes. He doesn’t know anyone’s last name or phone number and I feel like the only parent that has to hire a private investigator just to send out invitations to my son’s parties.
Mark has been giving some thought to his theme this year and he says to me, ” I really like Justin Beiber, Elton John and Lady Gaga but I want to help homeless dogs too.” I feel a headache already.