In Her Words
A Lame Mom Among Seemingly Perfect Parents
Politically correct pinatas and a working mom who feels out of the parenting loop
It’s official. I am the lamest mom on the planet. Friday night, after working 16-hour days at my job downtown, toiling away for a much younger boss who didn’t care if I had a kid at home that I never spent time with, I was ready to collapse into sleep.
Until I sat straight up in bed and realized that I had never gone shopping for my son’s birthday party.
Which was tomorrow. Less than 24 hours away.
Thank goodness my husband had ordered a cake, but there were other things to do. We needed decorations, games, party favors, little bags to put the favors in. And I’d promised I’d get all this stuff.
Sweaty, harassed and cranky, I ran out early Saturday morning to the discount party store and frantically loaded stuff into my cart. Half an hour later, and $80 poorer, I left the store feeling somewhat relieved. A giant, festive-looking piñata with Sesame Street characters on it was peeking out of my bag. I thought, what could be more fun than a bunch of 3 and 4-year-olds whacking away at Elmo’s face?
When I asked the sleepy, pimply teenage assistant in the store what I should hit it with, he shrugged and said, “We sell sticks for that.” I figured I could find something at home. Why spend $10 on a plastic stick?
Then I got home, and the nightmare began.