Wednesday, April 16, 2014

FBW: Hosting a Play Group or Running a Fight Club in 10 Easy Steps

Now that I live in the honest-to-gosh 'burbs, I joined my local chapter of MOMS Club International. For a $25-per-year membership fee, other mamas in my neighborhood are obligated to invite my kid and me to picnics and story time and holiday parties and weekly play groups. It's the only club I know of where whipping out a boob mid-conversation is considered normal. Except for strip clubs maybe. At least at MOMS Club no one is expected to pick up money with her butt cheeks. Then again, strippers aren't expected to sing "Yankee Doodle Dandy" in an endless loop while tiny lunatics bounce in their laps. (Unless they're working the VIP room. In which case, someone's for sure sticking a feather in her cap and calling it "macaroni.")

For me, the best part of MOMS Club is the weekly play groups, which are organized by birth year. My son is part of the 2013 play group. Most weeks, there is a respectable turnout of about 6 or 7 moms and at least as many kids. That's a dozen or more people per play group. Usually in one room. And not just regular people -- toddlers!

And until this past Tuesday, I had weaseled out of hosting a play group. Despite my naturally luxurious guilt, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. What if someone got hurt? What if someone was allergic to our dog? What if no one came? What if everyone came? What if all the kids started screaming and crying at once and I accidentally yelled, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate every single one of you!"?

But guilt did, eventually, prevail. I signed up to host a play group and, lo, I lived to tell about it. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say I nailed it. Blood loss was minor and the carpet is free of diarrhea. So, as a public service to those moms wondering what it takes, I give to you:

Hosting a Play Group or Running a Fight Club in Ten Easy Steps

  1. Buy snacks. If their mouths are crammed with store-bought sandwich cookies, the moms can't tell you that your house looks like the Barbie Hoarder Dream Hovel.
  2. Enlist your husband to help erase all evidence of your child from the home: Scrub oatmeal from the highchair, milk from the floor, pee from the walls, boogers from the carpet, whiskey from the mugs.
  3. Brew a pot of coffee to mask the smell of the Diaper Genie's corpse.
  4. Hide all of the stuffed animals, or, as they're called in our house, "the Kleenex." 
  5. Stick a note on the door, reading, "Moms, join us in the basement for play group. Don't mind the barking dog; she's been corralled in the bedroom." Another option might read: "Want to burgle my home? Act now!"
  6. Welcome your visitors. Offer them cookies right away. Jokingly offer them whiskey in a mug. "Jokingly." Wink-wink. But seriously, offer them whiskey in a mug. Jokingly.
  7. Watch as the children swarm the VTech activity table. Watch as the children bash the VTech activity table with a xylophone hammer. Watch as the children bash each other with a xylophone hammer. Watch as hair is pulled. Watch as a cheek is scratched. Watch as Cheerios are stolen. Watch as baby gates are scaled. Watch as tears are shed. Watch as snot flows like a deep, slow-moving river of toddler grief. Simply watch. Because this is the natural order of things. Because this is the jungle.
  8. Kick everyone the hell out.
  9. Pluck your dazed child from a heap of alphabet blocks. Settle him into his crib for nap, even as you wonder -- Why is he sticky? Why is he missing a clump of hair? And whose tooth is he clutching in his sweaty fist? 
  10. Pile all of the toys in the backyard. Douse the pile liberally with Lysol. Burn it to the ground.
Hooray! If you followed the above steps, then you just hosted fight club and/or play group! Enjoy having the flu, pink eye, or fleas within the next 2 days.

14 comments:

  1. This post has made my extra early morning far more enjoyable. Thank you. By the way, I did check yesterday for your newest post and was pissed you hadn't written anything. Now in honor of "Flogger Blogger Wednesday," YOU SUCK! I would like to follow-up my insult with praise, by saying I am very impressed you hosted a play date. That is a lot of planning, cleaning, stressing-out, and for a bunch of toddlers. Crazy what we mothers will do.
    Love, Sarah (forgot to mention that I loved the stripper references. I am pretty sure "Row, row, row your motor boat" is their favorite though. LOL!)

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    1. "Row Your Motor Boat" -- that is some genius-level comedy right there. I am so pissed I didn't think of that. Way to show me up on my own blog, a-hole, I mean sister.

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  2. #2 is totally optional - no one is judging your oatmeal crust. In fact, I really like going to someone's house that has oatmeal crust - I find it reassuring that I may actually be normal. (You can still clean up the boogers, though...boogers are gross...that said, anyone with a son will also feel strangely at home with pee on the walls) :)

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    1. Yeah, home used to smell like coffee and a whiff of shaggy dog. Now it's pee. Pee and shaggy dog. And I get that a ubiquitous crust of oatmeal is totally normal, but some days, I just want to touch a table or a counter or a chair and not come away sticky.

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  3. A lot of stressing out for a bunch of toddlers, Sarah? No way, I'm pretty sure the stressing out is just for other moms. They're a cutthroat bunch in MOMS Kingstowne West (you should see what they did to those East Side wannabes). Where are the dads of Kingstowne West? Could we ever be trusted with play group while the moms went to a day spa?
    1. Buy a case of Yeungling.
    2. Lay down painter's tarp from Home Depot.
    3. Corral escaping kids with feet like errant soccer balls.
    4. Lie to moms.

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    1. I had to read #3 a few times before I realized that the kids in question did not have soccer ball feet.

      Also, feel free to get the dads together to run a play group. The moms would love that. And when the babies escape your corral, drink all of your beer, and drunkenly toddle off into the woods to eat sticks, we'll try not to get all judgmental.

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  4. You are absolutely right, Aerodad. It really is stress over what the other moms think, not what their kid thinks. Maybe if I had a play date for my three kids and followed your 4 simple rules, it wouldn't be so bad. Although I would probably drink the case of beer prior to the play date. Drunk moms are always more entertaining and carefree. Shitfaced play date here I come!! I assure you, that you and my sister Jessica will receive an invite.:-)

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  5. I think I have video from a toddler playdate of my oldest sneaking up behind his friend with a plastic garden shovel, raised high for optimal head bashing.

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    1. I just never appreciated how much a play group was like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. There are wonderful, tender moments, but most of the time it's just a brutal fight to the death.

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  6. There is so much that is hilarious (and true!) about this post but I'm laughing so hard I can barely type. The butt cheeks sentences is stellar. The wondering whose tooth your kid is holding is fantastic. All of it. I love it. Damn those playdates. They're miserable but my goodness there's a lot to write about!

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    1. Well, "butt cheeks" is an inherently funny term. Whenever I feel like my writing is going flat, I deploy "butt cheeks." (And, yes, if I didn't fear for my life, I'd totally host another play date just for the blog fodder.)

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  7. Those toddler play groups are way behind me, but boy did you just bring me back! That was hilarious. I especially liked the Yankee Doodle Stripper, whiskey mug, burgle note, and the germ bonfire! Can't wait to read more of your stuff, Jessica!

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    1. Well, dang, Ashley. I love your writing and am very flattered. I can't wait to disappoint you!

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  8. How did I miss this? I never participated in play group; neither did Mollie. I guess we both missed out on a lot of fun and lost teeth.

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