Mom in DCity

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It’s Her Party But I’ll Cry if I Want To

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The weekend is upon us. Not just any weekend– it’s Cinco de Party-o weekend! Five birthday parties in less than 48 hours. Will we survive?

If you think I’m being overly-dramatic, then you haven’t met certain moms on the Hill.

Let me introduce you to one of them. Well call her Persistent Peggy (just plain old Peggy, for short).  Here’s an example of a conversation that may or may not have happened last night…

Peggy: Hi Besa, I was wondering if you got an invitation to so-and-so’s birthday party tomorrow? My daughter says she’s invited but I never got one.

Me: I got an evite a couple of weeks ago. Did you check your email?

Peggy: I didn’t see one, but maybe it went to my old email address.

Me: Maybe…..

Peggy: Can I get so-and-so’s mom’s phone number so I can call and see if she’s invited?

Me (silently to myself): Sure, great idea. That won’t be awkward or anything.

Me: Let me look at the evite and see if the number is there. Oh, look! A list of who was invited. Only a very small group of girls and I don’t see your daughter on the list. Sorry.

Peggy: Can I have her mom’s number anyway??

Me (silently to myself): Good God, are you seriously going to call and invite your daughter to the party?

I gave the number and hung up wondering if I should call the other mom to warn her. Nah…

Fast forward to the next morning at dance class– would you believe that Peggy asked us to take a gift to the birthday girl on their behalf?

Why do I feel like this is the beginning of a news story? I think we all remember that Texas Cheerleader mom.

As I walked Lira and the two presents into the birthday party, I couldn’t help but think…I barely have time to deal with my own social life, much less my daughter’s.

It feels like a bad episode of Maury Povich. You know the ones: a girl who didn’t feel pretty enough or cool enough in high school wants to show how gorgeous and awesome she has turned out to be. She’s usually a stripper now.

The point is… wouldn’t it be great if we didn’t push our own insecurities on to our children?! If your kid isn’t invited to a birthday party, that’s ok! It may not feel ok to you, but it is. I’ll admit that when Lira isn’t invited to a party it bothers me a little. Here’s how I deal with it: I remind myself that Lira is more charming, beautiful and witty than their child. If they invited Lira, she would outshine the birthday girl! So really, I can’t be upset. It’s like how some women pick less attractive friends to be their bridesmaids.  It’s not how I chose to do things at my wedding, but I’m also a Gisele Bundchen look-alike so I never had to worry about that.

Wouldn't You Want Her at Your Party?

One party down, four to go!  I wonder who wasn’t invited to those parties.

Summer Lovin’… Had Me a Blast

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For many families on the Hill, August is the ideal time to procreate. How do I know? Because we are going to five (yes, five) birthday parties this weekend. Birthday parties are a cornerstone of every good American family’s weekend routine, but there are usually one or two– not five.

Our overloaded schedule got me thinking about a few things:

  1. Wow, my girls are popular. It’s a good thing they take after me and not their father– that guy’s such a nerd.
  2. Thank God for Amazon Prime– gotta order those birthday gifts today!
  3. Which parents do I like best? I’ll take the girls to those kids’ parties and Dave can go  to the others (you’ve got to divide and conquer on weekends like this)
  4. Why was everyone’s kid born in May? Which led me to… they all got pregnant in August! Which led me to a long list of inappropriate names for this blog post before settling on the one you see above (Summer of ’69? Dog Days of Summer?)

August is traditionally the most popular birth month, according to Life’sLittleMysteries. Maybe I should start stocking up on gifts now; August is right around the corner, you know.

Both of my kids were born in the winter, which was poor planning for several reasons: I could never find a winter coat to properly cover my pregnant belly, sometimes there’s a blizzard happening while you’re in labor, and planning parties in the winter in DC is hard.

Lira and me (9 mos pregnant)

Of the 5 parties this weekend, three of them are outdoors. One is at Yards Park, a really cool splash park near Nationals Stadium!  And two of the others are backyard cookouts. We’ve also been to birthday parties at Lincoln Park, the National Arboretum and East Potomac Park. You want to know the best thing about those parties?  Their parents didn’t have to pay to have them there! [Read more…]

More Than a Mom

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When you’re a mom, you sometimes forget what it’s like to get male attention (husbands excluded—mine gives me more than I can handle). So when a strapping young fella reminds you that you are, in fact, still a woman and not just a mom—it’s kind of exciting.

I rode the metro to a downtown coffee shop to get some work done before a doctor’s appointment. This was the scene:

Me: (typing feverishly on my laptop)
Tie Guy: Hey, how’d you break that wrist? Bar fight?
Me: No, I broke it beating my children. (I wasn’t actually trying to shut him down but I realized afterward that I may as well have said ‘I have children and am not interested.’)
Tie Guy: (looks dejected)

It must have dawned on him that I said “kids” but not “husband” so he comes back to my table a few minutes later.

Tie Guy: So how was your Mother’s Day?
Me: It was good… nice family brunch.
Tie Guy: Where’d you go?
Me: Andrew’s Air Force Base. My husband works there.

Aaaaaannnnddd, that was the end of it.

Tie Guy: I hope your arm feels better. Have a good day.

Wasn’t that an exciting story?!

If this happens to you all the time, good for you; I don’t want to hear about it.  But if you’re a mom who occasionally has an extra cheerio in her bra and a few pacis in her purse, can I get an amen?! [Read more…]

Cranky In Clarendon

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I don’t understand what the big deal is about Clarendon. Sure, there are some cool restaurants, but I just can’t get excited about a place whose town center involves Pottery Barn and The Cheesecake Factory.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a Starbucks latte as much as the next mom, but after living in DC it all feels so generic. If I sound like a pretentious a**hole, I apologize, but I just got back from the Clarendon Whole Foods and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

First of all, there’s never any parking. I had forgotten about this when I decided on this Whole Foods instead of the one in DC. Haven’t you people heard of a parking garage? It may take half an hour to drive two miles in DC, but at least when you get there you can park. I circled Clarendon three times before finding a space three blocks away from the store. Hiking, while lugging groceries in the rain with a cast on, isn’t my idea of a fun time.

By the way, there are plenty of grocery stores on the Hill (Harris Teeter at Jenkins Row is my fave), but this was a special trip to stock up for my vegan cleanse. One hour and $173 dollars later, I headed home with my tiny bag of groceries and a few observations about Clarendon. [Read more…]

Splish Splash, These Girls Really Need a Bath

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You know what’s fun? Rainy days in the city. It’s especially awesome when I have a cast on my broken wrist  that I can’t get wet, a 2-year-old who wants to hold the umbrella and no parking near the daycare. All of this excitement and it’s not even 9 a.m. Jealous?!

It’s days like these when I miss the burbs. I’d pull up to the house, press the garage door opener and never feel a drop of rain. I’d get my Starbucks at the drive-though window and then pull up right in front of the daycare for drop-off.  I didn’t even own an umbrella!

Fortunately, Dave offered to pick up the girls after school today. He loves the rain and doesn’t turn into a pouty-pants like I do when there’s no sunshine. I’m also cranky about the 21 day vegan cleanse I’ve started today to help get me back on track after gaining 10 lbs.

If you’re still reading, it’s proof that misery loves company.  Did I already mention that it’s Monday?

When I arrived at home after work I was greeted with shrieks and giggles, and Dave wasn’t the only one who was excited (ha!).

“We want to go on an adventure!”

Me too… only my adventure would involve my pillow and some Ambien.

“Come on, Mom!”

[Read more…]