Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Whenever I was invited to go to some girl’s birthday party, I would ritualistically go to the store (most often Target) with my mom and we would get what seemed like the best present anyone could ever dream of, a caboodle complete with all things miniature. A mini hair brush, miniature toothpaste and a miniature toothbrush, miniature makeup, a mini mirror, a Mini Cooper, a miniature poodle—you know, all the best things in the world. The process of buying all these gems and putting them all perfectly in the several compartments within the pink, sparkly caboodle was enough to cause me to keel over from excitement. I practically had a heart attack every time I got to experience this sort of occasion. You would think I would have tried to make more friends with girls just so that I would be invited to their birthday parties. My brain hadn’t yet reached such cleverness, though.
And speaking of rituals and birthday parties, my mom and I went through another ritual that I thought was pure genius right before I left for the birthday party. She would tell me to sometime during the party call her to “check in” with her. She would then say quietly, “Audrey, do you want me to come and get you?” If I said no, that meant I was having a good time and wanted to stay for the remainder of the party. If I said yes, that meant (obviously) that I wanted to get the crap out of there. The fact that that was even an issue still causes me to wonder to this day. It wasn’t unusual for me to respond, “YES.”
And speaking even furthermore on rituals and birthday parties, my mom 99% of the time would not allow me to sleep over at a sleepover. She would always come and get me late at night right before everyone went to bed. Sometimes it was maddening. But now I look back and realize that her reasoning for not wanting me to sleep over makes perfect sense. With all those sickos out there, my children will most likely not sleep over at sleepovers either.