The Dirty Mommy Club

A few weeks ago, the kids and I attended a birthday party.  This little guy and my Bug have been fast friends since they were only months old.  Actually, if you ask Bug if she has a boyfriend, she will tell this little guy is her man.

My kids are getting to the age where you actually have to have some sort of plan when it comes to birthdays.  This particular party had a reptile theme.  The kids were entertained and educated on snakes, an iguana, large bugs and a blue tongued skink.  After a little intro of the animal, we were allowed to touch and hold the animals.  This put me in a particularly precarious position.  I hate bugs and such.  I mean HATE.  But I'm trying not to pass on all of my fears and anxieties to my kids (God knows I can't afford the therapy bill for that), so I put on a brave face, swallowed down the vomit in my mouth, and touched each and every animal.  I impressed the hell out of myself.

This, of course, did nothing to prompt or impress my children.  They looked and listened, but shrank away the moment the animal was close to them.  They appeared as relieved as I was when the animal show and tell was over.

The following week we were at the grocery store (the apparent backdrop for all of my shame), when we ran into one of our neighbours.  This gracious woman always takes the time to talk with each of my kids, as she has grandkids of her own the same age. Bug was excitedly telling her about the birthday party she had attended that had snakes at it.  

Obviously concerned, the woman looked to me.  I explained that it was an educational experience where a professional had brought in a host of reptiles for the kids to interact with.  She breathed a sigh of relief (really, what kind of parent did she think I was?) and asked Bug what animal was her favorite.

Bug excitedly answered 'the blue tongued skank'.  Yup, that's the kind of parent she was thinking of.

Cheers Dirties.