Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My Child is NOT a Designer Handbag

Here's the deal . . . the number of play dates you schedule, the vast array of classes your kid attends, the brand name sewn in the back of his t-shirt, the "latest and greatest" toy you just purchased does not equal your ability, talent, or quality as a mother.

Playing dress up, rolling around on the floor, singing silly songs (that make absolutely no sense but would most certainly have Dr. Suess laughing and clapping while nodding his head in approval), putting together puzzles, jumping in the leaves, running around in the rain . . . makes them happy, makes them laugh, makes them smarter in ways we will never know . . . and it makes them look at you and say, "I love you, mom."

THAT should be enough.

But if you want to continue to brag about classes and playdates, designer clothes and the bajillion dollars you just spent at some toy boutique, be my guest. I'll be busy making mud pies.

I have no issues with classes and play dates . . . none at all. Big fan. But the "look at me and all I do as a mother" schtick gets old really, really quick. They are children, not a stinkin' Gucci bag.

OK. I'm done.

Photo of the Week

Photo of the Week
Two Peas

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