Momservation: Nothing says one year-old birthday party like a kid in a high chair with cake all over his head and party guests busy getting a diaper change.
☺ ☺ ☺
I’ll admit, I came out of the gates too strong.
Huge guest lists, photo invitation taken month in advance, adorable theme detailed down to unique party favors, fancy snacks, meals and cakes, elaborate crafts and games,
plus a gigantic inflatable slide/bounce house combo that towered over my house every year. All documented with a gazillion pictures and overly-long home movie that missed all the funny parts.
I should’ve had a clue that it was all a bit much when the party time was dictated by a nap schedule.
The second indicator that Mommy may be going a bit too far in the birthday party category was when my four year–old refused to believe it was her actual birthday.
Said Whitney upon inspection of a vacant lawn, “It’s not your birthday until there’s a big, giant slide in the backyard.”
I began fading on the backstretch.
I still did photo birthday invitations, but they were hand distributed because I’d waited too long to mail them. I steered the kids to party places like Pump It Up and Sky High where they could still jump and slide their guts out, but all I had to do was show up with a cake and some party favors I picked up at the Dollar Tree. No mess to clean up and they supplied the band-aids for the slide burns. Snapped a few pictures, but forgot the video camera.
Now, when nobody’s looking, I walk.
The last few years my kids have just wanted a best friend or two to spend the night to celebrate their birthdays. I almost forget to plan for them they’re so stinking simple:
- Photo invitation for Logan’s Monster Truck birthday party
Phone call invitation. Let the kids make their own cake. Order a pizza. Rent a movie. Tell them to be quiet already and go to bed before midnight. Pancakes for breakfast. Give them something out of the birthday girl or boy’s room as a party favor and to help clean-up. Photo thank you card made from the picture I almost forgot to take.
My son’s birthday is this Sunday. Logan’s turning 11. All he wants to do is go dirt bike riding with his best friend. At some point. That’s it.
If he wasn’t already my son, I’d love that kid.
No one has to point out to me the irony of the memorable birthday parties I threw before my kids could retain the memory. Now that they’re at an age where they can forever remember an over-the-top birthday and appreciation for all my effort on their behalf, unfortunately, the novelty has worn off and Mommy’s tired. I peaked too soon.
I am the Lindsay Lohan of birthday parties. Without the rehab. Although, I do have a nasty cake batter habit I really should quit.