Friday, September 25, 2009

Mother's Day Out - a gift of sanity.

Holden recently started a mother's day out program at a local church in our area. The church is also associated with a fairly prominent all boys private school, presumably where we would send him if we weren't planning to high tail it to the burbs where every other vehicle is a minivan, the houses are huge and the schools are free. I swore I'd never do it but $15,000/year?! Seriously?!? Public schools in the city are just not an option. And mama wants a pool. And a laundry room - just picture it! A whole room dedicated to doing/hiding your laundry. We currently have stackables in the hall closet. I digress...

I am so blessed to have a sweet boy who is happy for the most part. But I can't leave the room for a second without him protesting, loudly. That means laundry, dishes and other general household chores that don't take place in the living room don't get done unless it's naptime. And let's be honest, shall we? Naptime is for eating lunch, checking email, facebooking, and showering.

Enter: Mother's day out. I don't know if you have a program like this in your area but hallelujah! I'm saved! You don't have to be a member of a church to use the program, you don't even have to attend church. You just have to get on the list and bring your checkbook. But the prices are incredibly reasonable. WAY cheaper than day care. My house is usually clean..not embarrassing, at least. My stuff gets done. I even get to meet grown ups for lunch every once in a while. Today, I held a trunk show at my family's salon while Holden played and collected germs from other little babies his age. They're all slightly older than he but that's ok...he's still bigger than most of em. And he's starting to enjoy himself..giggling with a little girl in his class. That's my boy..flirtin' with the ladies already!!!

1 comment:

  1. I know what you mean about chores... Levi cries loudly if I put him down or walk out of the room. So chores are usually done with him hanging out on my hip, or him crawling around on the floor right at my feet.

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