This post was first published in June 2013 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.
Hi, my name is Mary and I am a party pooper.
Okay, not technically, since I’m more of a only-like-to-poop-at-home pooper. But I do like to kill the joy of would-be activities my children dream up often.
See, I have this problem with mess. Like, really big problem with mess. And so when my sweet children want to do something fun like make a giant blanket fort in the basement or finger paint before naps, I automatically say no.
Because my first thought isn’t about how my fun it will be or what they can learn or the joy it will bring them, my first thought it well, that will make a mess and I don’t want to clean it up.
I’m that uptight mom that says no just because.
And I’ve acknowledged this character flaw. I even wrote it down as a reminder to not immediately say no to all requests my daughters make. And now I’m sharing it with you so I can work it out in my little brain. Because that’s what this blog does for me. The writing helps me process and I really don’t want to be the no-fun mom so I need to processthissituationout.
I do have spurts of okay-with-the-messiness. There are certain times where the mess is fine. But not for very long or I get itchy and really shaky. I’m sure there’s a pill for this, but I prefer to be uptight and bitchy than rely on medication. (Unless there’s a skinny pill and then I’ll take it…wait, isn’t that crack? Okay, I’m not sure I’ll take it. Let me think about it.)
When I was younger, our house was often turned into a giant haunted house. In the middle of summer complete with loud scary music and fake hatchets covered in red lipstick for effect. Or we’d spend a fall day in our clothesline tent playing house and adding rooms with whatever sheets we could find. And I don’t remember my mom being worried about the mess. But I remember the fun we had.
I want that for my own kids.
I want them to remember carting out every single blanket we own so they could have a camp out under their swing set. I want their imaginations to run wild with the possibilities of a cardboard box and some markers. I want finger paint under their nails and glitter forever in their hair.
I want to not care about the mess.
That’s pretty much my only goal for this summer.