I went to a birthday party with Devon for a four year old girl.
Every aspect of the party was wonderful, everything was perfect.
I mean perfect.
The mom does everything that I’ve always thought I would love to do. She plans the best parties ever. You know, the one’s that the kids are talking about even at their high school graduation. She does the best scrapbooking. She does tons of crafts with her kids, which are beautifully displayed throughout the house. The back yard is immaculate. She has a beautiful vegetable garden.
I love crafty things, I love scrapbooking, I love to bake, I had plans to start a garden.
I barely have time do to crafty things with the kids, and I shudder a bit at the thought of pulling out paint and glue for the fear of the mess and havoc it usually creates.
I haven’t scrapbooked in almost three years, I choose sleep instead.
I sometimes bake with the kids, but it’s definitely not a beautiful cake or cookie that you would be proud to display.
The new shrubs we planted in the spring are being strangled by the weeds towering over them.
The last few birthday parties that I planned consisted of either me calling Mr. Loblaws for a cake or doing a quick Duncan Hynes mix and throwing smarties all over the icing.
The decorations are the same dollar store streamers from two years ago.
Really though, you should have seen the Care Bear cookies that were individually decorated.
These effin Care Bears are making me feel inadequate as a mom.