So now that I am writing something about my son's upcoming fourth birthday, I realize that as my last post was something to do with his third birthday, I am now an annual blogger. So I have that going for me. At any rate, just put Boy 1 into preschool this last week, and while that was an adventure in and of itself, it is only now that I sit down and put fingers to keyboard. Because I have a major bone to pick with the very blank parenting manual I received after I had this kid (it was completely blank, which seemed kind of weird at the time, and not any better now). In the general guidelines for his preschool, it states that they do celebrate birthdays, and that I, as a parent (seriously, people better stop calling me that), can bring in any non-food item. This is, of course, due to the fact that children today have weird food allergies that we had never even heard of when I was a kid. If you would have told younger me that it was possible for children to not only have an allergy to peanuts, but in fact for them to have a deadly allergy to peanuts, it probably would have rocked my tender world order. I asked the teacher what the status quo was for parents bringing in things, hoping for something specific ("they bring in one balloon." or "thick-rimmed cosmetic eye glasses are all the rage if you want your child to not be ostracized here and for the other parents to be kind to you and let you back out of your parking space upon dropping off/picking up your child." Anything along these lines would have been fabulous), and got the whole, well, they bring in pretty much anything. She also added that as none of these kids have food allergies (they're a vintage class apparently) it was okay to bring in cupcakes, etc. As tempted as I was by the cupcake suggestion, I was also raised to be very scared and obedient of certain types of authority, and well, I just can't go against the written guidelines without having anxiety-inducing hallucinations of the entire scenario where I try to explain to the administration that 'the teacher SAID it was okay.....' So now I am left with the generic description of 'pretty much anything' to bring along in goody bag form.
Now, there must be a fine art to real parenting. Really knowing what will make other kids and parents happy......but I am not one to hone this particular 'craft.' So I resort to the dollar section at Target, hoping for inspiration, or maybe another couple of moms having a conversation about the perfect goody bag contents. After I purchased my items and began immediately worrying about whether it was too much, not enough, or the wrong thing, I went online to confirm my mental illness of wanting to fit in and not rock the boat with other moms. Sure enough, according to the internets, every mom hates goody bags. Doesn't want their kids to get them anymore, has never seen a goody bag with good stuff, it's a waste of trash space, money, time......so that's encouraging. I will say that almost everything that seems to be marketed towards goody bags is probably something that will either make other kids or other moms hate you. Alternately, or simultaneously. Bouncy balls? Why don't I just give their kids a BB gun already and tell them to go at it? Bouncy balls are a recipe for broken household items, black eyes, and possible car accidents (don't ask me the details, my pessimistic mind can come up with at least three different ways in which bouncy balls will cause a major car crash).....so I passed on those. Those sticky hands? Sure, kids love them, but even I hate those things. My brand of OCD cannot stand seeing all the dog hair that immediately sticks to them upon opening the package. Parachute men? Yeah, I don't know if your four year old is the oldest or youngest or middlest child at your house, but at my house I have an almost 18 month old who has a deep desire to hurt himself with anything that could possibly be used to strangle or choke. Things that make noise, a mess, or could possibly have been put together solely using some sort of cancer causing red paint from China......moms are not going to like me. Books, anything that smells like learning....my kid is going to get the stink eye. When did it become so complicated?
My brother and I had summer birthdays, so I never really had to worry about my birthday party being a topic of discussion at school. Which had its upsides and downsides. But I don't remember my mom ever agonizing over any of these things. Which isn't to say that she did not agonize, just that she, in her wisdom, did not bring her child into the thought processes that would drive anyone crazy. Over a four year old's birthday goody bags. I'd like to think it's going to get easier, but if these last four years have taught me anything (and everybody knows that there's nothing like failure and defeat to teach a lesson), it's that it's only going to get harder and more complicated. I hope these kids and their moms like the crayons, pads of paper and wooden clackers that I bought (um, yeah, I'm pretty sure the moms will not like the clackers, but, hey, not everything is my problem), and that I have not committed any sort of goody bag faux pas, but at the same time I hate myself for even caring one ounce.
