My daughter had her birthday this month and that means she had her birthday party this month. What THAT means is that she received birthday presents this month. And THAT has become the bane of my existence.
My daughter is one lucky girl and her life is full of amazing people who showered her with wonderful gifts. A lot of wonderful gifts. What sorts of gifts, do you ask? Umm, I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know because I haven’t let her open them yet. Sigh.
I know, I know. I’m the worst mother ever. Not to mention how embarrassing it is when guests ask me if she liked her Barbie laptop or Fisher Price dollhouse or whatever else it is that she got. Oh man, is it ever embarrassing! In my defense, I’m very thankful for everyone who went out of their way to buy her a gift and really do appreciate it. Honestly, I really do.
The thing is that this kid has everything. She has a playroom dedicated to just playing with toys. It is literally bursting at the seams. It is full of every single toy she could ever want and many more that she no longer even wants. I don’t know what to do with more toys.
Actually, that’s not really true. I do know. I know exactly what I am going to do. I am going to donate an old toy that she no longer plays with for every new toy she receives. That is the master plan. However, I need to find time to organize all this. And time is what I do not have right now. And that is the reason I won’t let her open her gifts. Ugh, I feel like I’ve just revealed a dirty secret. It’s not really so bad, is it?
I just need to figure out which toys to take away and I need to find room for the new toys so they don’t overtake my house. I know a good mother would allow her child to open her presents and would worry about the mess later. I know a good mother would have let her daughter play with all her toys right away. I know, I know. Shame on me.
I swear, I’ll have it all sorted out soon and then she can open all the presents she wants. Right now I console myself with the knowledge that I’m teaching her delayed gratification and patience. That’s important stuff, people. Did I mention I have a newborn in the house? Doesn’t that make a difference? I just had a bad case of mastitis. Does that count for something? It’s been really cold. What about that?
I'm not really that bad, I promise.
Now if only I could get rid of this guilty feeling.
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