So I’ll say it. I hate planning birthday parties. I get stressed, anxious, and generally grumpy surrounding the whole birthday party thing. Do we have one? When do we have one? What day, what time, and where? Of course WHERE is of huge importance to the kid, and when is a matter of convenience for the parents – the me-parent and the parents of the OTHER kids, as well. And then there’s the whole coordinating it with the ACTUAL birthday thing.
Details: Of which you probably don’t care so I’ll make it brief: Sunday the 23rd Jamis turns 7. It’s 1) Summer and 2) some people will obviously be AWAY ON VACATION and 3) AT CHURCH.
So I realized numbers 1 and 2, but didn’t exactly take into account number 3! We planned the party for 11:00 am. What was I thinking? I should have done the afternoon. Now I have to serve lunch AND cake which means MORE money. And 11 in the morning means less kids (poor J), because some people out there are actually practicing a religion outside of their own homes and minds.
I swear every year I’m learning something new. So I figure by the time Jamis has his sweet sixteen (I don’t think boys call it that so yup, I obviously still long for a DAUGHTER people, call me crazy) I’ll have it all worked out.
Last year we had his party in, um, November. Yup, that’s right folks. It wasn’t until November. We, uh, had a new baby. Okay, he was six months old by then, but it seemed like a good excuse for postponing it so long. Anyway, I didn’t want to do the whole summer party thing because I’m squeamish about talking to other parents (casually exchanging words at after school pick-up is easier than all these PHONE CALLS, ugh). But I learned that having a party in November for an August birthday is confusing for a lot of people. When they ask, “so Jamis, when was your birthday?” and Jamis answers confidently, “August 23rd,” their smiles fade and turn to confused nods.
So this year I looked at the calendar and said, hey! Jamis’s birthday is actually on a weekend. So let’s just have it right on the day! We could have done Saturday like every other person in the world, and I’m sure more kids could have come. Unless, of course, they were Jewish. (Damn those organized religions. All of em!) But to tell the truth I decided that Sunday would be better for ME! You know, the working mom. The one who wouldn’t be able to pull together all the details, the balloon-buying, game-organizing, pinata-filling details during the work week. That I needed Saturday just to organize an event for little people who don’t really care about the details and will only be here for two hours.
Good thing this party thing is now taking up the ENTIRE weekend. And the three weeks leading up to it, to tell the truth. From the moment you first decide on a party you are consumed with buying the invitations, making a list, doing the RSVP thing, hunting down parents who haven’t responded, giving your kids the bad news that so-and-so can’t come, hunting down more kids to fill their shoes (by phone, lucky me), planning the games, ordering the food, picking up the food, and balloons, and stuff for the games, and PARTY FAVORS (phew, good thing I just remembered THAT one) and oh yeah, remaining completely enthusiastic for your kid because you know that this is a rite of passage – birthday parties as a kid – and something they will probably remember when they get older. And you do, in your heart, want them to remember it fondly.
Next year? Not on a Sunday. Definitely. Not in summer? Possibly. Not at my house? Yet to be determined.
* And now I have to add that I feel entirely guilty for this post. For these thoughts. I just want my kid to have a great birthday. To have fun with friends. To play. To celebrate. To laugh and smile and run around while people gather just for him. It’s supposed to be special, and I’m sure that it will be. I will relax. All will be good. I will not hate birthday parties. I will embrace them. At the very least, I will embrace my kid. Because he, that little face up there in the header peering over the gate, is going to be 7. Seven. SEVEN. And he’s all boy. And he’s all mine. And he brought me back to the world in so many ways.
**Note to self: Read this next year, round about July!
Read More in birthday, oldest child, Sarah Writes, three kids
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We have an 8th b-day coming up in Oct in the Trenches. I have already decided that we will rent a bouncy house, and he can pick 5 friends to come play. Nothing fancier than that!
And another reason I really hope I remember to come back here before our own 8th bday party. Because that sounds like a perfect idea to me!
The title was all I needed to know because youi know what? Me too. Don’t care if it’s big or small, old or young, planning or attending, when or where, I loathe birthday parties. And it all boils down to expectations and cake. Parties are never fun, something always makes it seem like a crappy alternative to sitting at home and watching old movies, and the cake always, always, always sucks.
Except yours, I’m sure. Next time invite us.
Cake. I happen to be somewhat of a cake expert these days. But I thank you for not asking me to make Jamo’s cake. It’s way to HOT and HUMID today. May I suggest Carvel?
So this is what I have to look forward to, huh?
DAMN.
Ben is turning 4 in 2 weeks and we are having his first “real” birthday party (as in: actual kids at the party, a theme, invites, the works). We picked a bounce house place that basically does it all for us and we limited it to just HIS friends (NO OBLIGATORY INVITES), but as simple as we’ve kept it, I still feel like I’m planning a sweet 16s! I am dreading the small talk with his classmates’ parents…!
You did it. The day was a success. And at least you have until February before you have to do it again! I have three of five b’days in September. EGAD.