I hate being a pussy mom.
I want to be the rocker mom who grooves to the beat of her own drum, not caring what people think, no, just experiencing that joie de vivre and living, man, just living! You know?
No? Oh man, why you gotta be like that?
Yesterday, my daughter and I made valentines for her preschool class and I’m thinking, I am NOT going to tell her how these valentines should look, I will not tell her to write her name in a straight line, or that hearts aren’t hairy.
So, I’m not crafty. But I thought it wouldn’t matter. Because almost-four-year-olds aren’t expected to be crafty, right? So who’s going to blame the mom for messy valentines?
Well, after my daughter came home from school today and brought back licensed artwork valentines with treats attached from the other kids, I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I thought it’d be a good idea for my daughter to make homemade valentines. Because they are not in vogue this year.
Every single valentine my daughter received from her classmates radiated goodness and white light and Martha Stewart and bald hearts and I feel like a heel.
Especially when my daughter told me that Ruby hated her because she didn’t get a treat with her homemade valentine.
And apparently Caleb told my daughter “no thanks” when she tried to give him her card.
Of course, my daughter also told me he said, “bye bye cha cha,” so now I don’t know what to think.
I thought hairy hearts were so 2008.