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Go Nigel, Go!
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Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Aug
15
I hosted the playgroup today. Did you read that?
I hosted THE PLAYGROUP today.
It went down here. At my house. Where I live. In my very own environment.
Mothers brought their children to hang out with my child in our natural habitat. In our crib. In our casa (they tell me that’s Spanish for house. Or Italian. Whatever you prefer).
Why didn’t I tell you about this yesterday, you ask? Well, you know how much I freak out about playgroup on a regular day. Can you imagine the torture I’ve been putting myself through? Okay, whatever you’re imagining, multiply that by infinity.
Mainly, I focused all my crazy into cleaning. I cleaned every single toy Julia owns. If I couldn’t clean them to my satisfaction, out they went. Just so you know, my satisfaction meant just like new. Then, I organized the clean toys first by function, then size and color. It was very serious business. And I didn’t even consider at 3 a.m. this morning as I was sorting Mr. Potato head parts that I might be going a little overboard. It had to be done. As I washed down walls, scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees and cleaned the windows, my family tried to reassure me that the playgroup members would have fun regardless of how clean my heating ducts were. Deep down, I knew they would. Because they were coming to be with Julia and Julia is fun. But, I wanted to have fun, too. I knew I couldn’t have fun unless my house was so clean we could do emergency surgery in there.
And it didn’t just start yesterday. I’ve had Dave working like a slave out in the yard for five days. All of that so I could say, “I’m sorry things are such a mess.”
Who am I kidding? The house doesn’t get better than this. I had to call myself on my own fib and admit that I cleaned all night because I so wanted them to come and enjoy being there.
In addition to providing the play place, I was also responsible for providing snacks. I bought a fruit tray, a veggie tray, Keebler Snack Stix and offered beverages from my cool-beaner cooler thingy on the porch. I offered juice, water and pop (you know, for the grown-ups). Reasonable, huh? You cannot imagine the restraint it took to keep it that simple. I agonized over the snack decision. In the grocery store. I stood there in the beverage aisle, “Okay, water. I should definitely have water out. And some juice for the kids. 100% juice, though. Apple. Well, maybe everyone doesn’t like apple? I’ll get white grape, too. Hmmm, maybe a fruit punch? I’ll get pop, too. I like pop. I better get something else, though. Not all the moms drink pop. Lemonade! Yeah! And tea. They like iced tea. Hmmm…but I shouldn’t just get one kind of pop. What if they don’t like diet?” Eventually, when my cart was overflowing with drinks, I decided I better tone it down. I needed to make room for the food part. I think I did pretty well, although the fight I had with myself at the IGA was pretty severe. It lasted five aisles and by the time I reached the cashier, she seemed a little scared of me. And when she had to ask me if I wanted the 7 pound bag of ice or the 22 pound, I almost felt sorry for her as I weighed the pros and cons of each as if the fate of the planet would be determined by this decision. All she wanted was to get this weirdo who keeps talking to herself the hell outta there. But somehow, it felt like the most important decision in the world to me. I mean, if I screwed up the ice, they may never let me host playgroup again!
After all the preparation for this day - cleaning the house, organizing the toys, doing the yard work - I thought I’d covered everything. I’d eliminated all evidence that we owned pets - you couldn’t find a single cat hair on the couch or piece of poop in the yard. Then moments after everyone arrived, my cat Emily brought us a snake.
Anyone want a cat? Stinkin’ cat.
But, still. Fun was had. The kids played in the playhouse, dug in the sandbox, bounced balls, slid down the slide, rode the Barbie Jeep, jumped in the baby pool and slipped on the slip ‘n slide. They ate fruit and veggies and crackers and drank juice. They thought the snake was awesome. The played in the play room. They played in Julia’s bedroom. They played all over this land.
And now that it’s over, I suddenly feel the ache in my feet. And my legs. And my shoulders. And my head, too. I realized I have an underboob heat rash. I have a chemical burn on my hands from all the cleansers I used. And dammit, I’m hungry. But it was worth it. I hope they come back.
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11 Cool Kids Came To Play
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I Write A Haiku Each Day
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
Sounds like fun. I go through the same thing when it’s our turn to host family dinner. Once a month we have parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, you name it, come to our house for dinner. I spend days before cleaning. Then when all is said and done and everyone has left I am left with a mess twice as big as before. Then I ask myself, “Was it really necessary to do all that cleaning?” Well, they’re in-laws so it is necessary! I’m glad that it all went well and that you were able to enjoy yourself!!
And now you are finished with cleaning for awhile! Why do we put so much stress on ourselves for things like this? I am secretly happy when I go over to someone’s house and find that it is not immaculate. Finally, another REAL human being!
Glad you had so much fun!
Good job! I’m glad it was successful… your house does sound fun, snake and all. Did you at least throw out the Easy Bake Oven and all of the toys made with lead paint? We have to do that at our house today. Stupid recalls.
I, too, am guilty of cleaning my A off and then saying “sorry it’s such a wreck”. I love it whethey respond “Oh, don’t worry about it, mine is a wreck, too…” So when do you get to host next?
Oh, and ps– love the post title!! I started downloading Conchords for my iPod.
I just don’t do play group any more — it’s too much. But there was a time, when I lived for play group — at my house. I made cookies to match the season, I had a game, and a craft. That girl left — maybe it was the 4 kids that took the wind out of my sails. Glad you survived — and I would have loved to have been there.
I just want to ask if I can have my next birthday party at your place? It sounds like a rockin’ good time. Wow.
You are the mama!
Chemical burns and boob rashes for a playdate? Dude. You are one hardcore play date mama.
Well if I ever get to come over & visit, you don’t have to get an under boob rash for me. Just have the Diet Dr.Peppers & we are good to go.
We’ll chat & take pics.
Oh & I would have to nibble on Julias yummalicious cheeks:)\
(and there had better be peanut butter toast left under the cabinet too!)
Boy, do you go all out. Sounds more like you were getting ready for a birthday party. And how nice of your cat to bring something to play with.
It’s just like a cat to mess things up, contrary little things. Sounds like it went well and I empathize with your deliberation in the store. That’s me too, cept I do it for everything from birthday parties to family dinners. I always buy in excess. Just wait, someday it’s going to drive Josh nuts.
Snakes don’t bother me one bit (fuzzy caterpillars are another story, though) and it was really very thoughtful of the cat to provide you with the day’s nature lesson. So just pour a little vodka in the leftover juice - doesn’t matter what kind of juice - put some hydrocortisone cream on the heat rash and take a well-deserved break! GREAT JOB!