So. I meant to write this entry two nights ago when the memory of the birthday party I had just thrown for Kid #1 was fresh in my mind. But I was exhausted and felt like instead of hosting a six year old's birthday party I had just run a marathon (or an extremely hilly 5K) and was in desperate need of a deep tissue massage, or at the very least a hot shower. So I called it a night.
The next day I was on my own all day with three kids who wanted to open every single one of those Star Wars Lego kits (yes, even the baby - apparently teeny tiny lego pieces are a delicacy amongst those who only have four teeth) and assemble their contents on the spot. Who knew the step by step directions I used to follow to build my post-college Ikea furnirture would prepare me for a future of constructing The Millenium Falcon and Battle Droids? They needed batteries for every talking toy superhero. They wanted to hang the solar system mobile and try out the volcano kit that actually erupts (shout out to the two friends who actually brought educational gifts).
Anyway, that night found me experiencing some sort of stress related tension headache (can a 6 year old's birthday cause PTSD?) and I passed out at 8:30 pm without even washing my face or changing out of my daytime clothes (which, I do admit, very closely resembled my nighttime clothes, so there's that).
Considering my bedtime routine is more elaborate than my three-year-old's three-stories-and-two-glasses-of-water-and-ten-minutes-of-cuddle-time ordeal, this SAYS SOMETHING.
Mainly, that if it's taken me three days to recover from his sixth birthday party I fear his bar mitzvah.
See, they don't tell you that throwing your kids birthday parties is one of those things that starts out really fun and turns into something you do because it would be mean not to, like taking the family on a trip to Disney World, or having sex with your husband (I kid, honey, I KID!) It's in the book of "stuff we won't tell women or they'll never have kids" - right after the chapter on how you'll never sneeze again without worrying about whether or not you just peed in your pants.
Actually, in the beginning, birthday parties are not that bad. The first birthday party you ever throw for your first baby is HUGE. It's really more of a celebration of YOU than of them - YOU survived post partum hormones, YOU lived through three to six months of three am feedings, and YOU have come to terms with every piece of clothing you own being permanently stained with someone else's bodily fluids (and I don't mean in a 'Monica and Bill' way, I mean it in a 'pee and poop' way).
YOU deserve to celebrate.
And so you put that Pinterest board to use making crafty little invitations, homemade decorations to reflect the 'theme' of the party like You Are My Sunshine or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or Elmo's World. Forget the fact that your one year old can't say 'sunshine', doesn't have a clue what a caterpillar is, and gets Elmo and Daddy mixed up on a regular basis. This isn't about them, this is about you. You've just given yourself carpal tunnel syndrome decorating a cake that looks like Cookie Monster. YOU ARE THE BEST MOM EVER.
Fast forward six years. You have now had a birthday party at every Little Gym and Inflatable House of Horrors - er - Palace- in your metropolitan area and it's time to plan ANOTHER PARTY.
I asked Kid #1 what he wanted to do for his upcoming birthday. He said Chuck E. Cheese's. I thought about it. True, he had his party there just last year, but it was soooo easy. Fill out a form online, and then coast on autopilot until the day of the party. Chuck does everything for you - evites, food, drinks, even favors. Hell, I bet we could get him to get your kid to write the thank you notes for an additional fee (OMG I would totally pay someone to do that for me). Leave with the presents and the kids you came with.
Really, they stamp your hand to make sure you take the correct kid. I have no words for the person who made that a thing they need to do, but now that I have three kids I kind of get it.
So I said to kid: "Alright. Chuck E. Cheese's it is. How about we invite all the boys in your class?" I'd noticed that kids have started doing same-sex parties and it seemed like a good way to keep the numbers down. True, there wasn't going to be an open bar or anything, but when you're paying per kid, that shit adds up.
Kid said, "OK. All the boys. And a few of the girls...you know the ones who were in my playgroup and the ones who went to my summer camp." I explained that we can't invite all of the boys and just half of the girls. He nodded. "So we'll invite my whole class then. And also I want some of my old preschool friends. And the people who used to live in my old neighborhood..."
Suddenly I had a flashback of planning my wedding and a similar conversation with my husband that resulted in a guest list of over 300 people.
I thanked God that as the mother of the groom I will NOT be paying for this kid's wedding.
Nor will I be paying for 25 kids to play ski ball and eat cardboard - I mean pizza - at Chuck E. Cheese's. At $15 a head, that's....a lot of money for video games and a dancing mouse (math was never my strong suit).
I consulted my husband, who in the past has never been consulted about the place or time of a birthday party because he generally doesn't have an opinion and then I get mad because WHY DOESN'T HE HAVE AN OPINION and then I just do what I want anyway. But this time I was stuck and needed help. Either we've done it, it's booked, or it's just too damn expensive for 25 kids.
"So, have it at the Community Park/Playground." He said.
"But what will they DO?" I asked.
"Play?" he offered.
I thought about it. On one hand, I have always sworn up and down I would never throw a party dependent on the weather. I think that, unless you live in San Diego (or Camelot) where you are guaranteed perfect weather every single day you should never plan an outdoor event unless you want to give yourself an ulcer. On the other hand, if it's a nice day, we really won't need much to entertain the kids. There's a huge playground. This is a kindergarten class that plays together every day at recess. Throw in a relay race or two and some snacks and DONE. It's in the bag.
So I scheduled the party, ordered some Star Wars themed decorations and party favors, and perused the Pinterest boards looking for cute and creative party ideas. You would not believe how many possibilities there are for Star Wars themed parties out there. Or maybe, if you are not me and did not grow up totally oblivious to the Star Wars franchise, you would believe it. The themed snack food ideas alone are ridiculous- Wookie cookies, Yoda Soda, Obi Wan Kabobbies (these were fruit skewers, obvi), Vader veggies. I could have gone nuts and dipped pretzel sticks in frosting and made them into light sabers bought potato chips and called them Leia Lays. In the end, I decided that these kids were just barely mastering their sight words, my clever 'punny' snack names would probably fly right over their little heads. Also, I'd like to know what kid eats veggies at a birthday party. Always remember your audience. I bought some pretzels and chips and cupcake mix and called it a day.
The weekend of the party arrived. Every time the weather called for showers on Sunday I told myself the forecasters were high and didn't know what they were talking about. Every time it called for sun I took it as gospel because Al Roker is NEVER WRONG. I spent Saturday wrapping the ends of 25 pool noodles with duct tape and turning them into light sabers (the one Pinterest craft I actually attempted from the 250 pins on my Star Wars Party board), frosting cupcakes (blue for the Force, red for the Dark Side, duh) and stuffing party favor bags with....well total crap because let's face it it's either going to get gobbled up on the car ride home or thrown out the second the kids walk in the door.
So that night the Husband and I escaped for a dinner a deux to unwind before the big day. And by unwind I mean I sat there and literally had a PANIC ATTACK because WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO FOR TWO HOURS WITH 25 KIDS?
Husband reacted like he usually does when I freak out - by giving me a blank stare. "We'll give them the pool noodles and let them have light saber fights." No, I insisted, we couldn't just let them whack each other with pool noodles for two hours- we needed games with rules, a craft project, something to provide structure and purpose to what would otherwise be a trip to the playground with cupcakes. What was I thinking not letting Chuck take the wheel? This party was going to SUCK!
To be honest, I'm not sure what I was more worried about - that the kids would be bored or that the birthday boy would be let down. After all, it was HIS day, HIS chance to host his friends and be THE BIRTHDAY BOY. I needed to make sure that as his mom I gave him the party that at the end of the day would make him think "Wow, I have the BEST MOM EVER."
Like most things in my life that start out about other people, I was inevitably making this party all about me.
Trust me," Husband said, "this will be fine."
The day of the party dawned sunny and warm. We literally couldn't have asked for more perfect weather. I worried that I might actually have to follow through on some of the promises I'd made with God and give him my firstborn after the party. We got to the playground early, claimed our picnic tables, and threw a lot of Star Wars paper products on them. The kids arrived, handed over their presents, and started playing on the playground. So far so good.
After about twenty minutes of 'free play' I started to get nervous. A few of the parents had opted to stay at the party and I felt like they were watching me, judging me, thinking "Is this just another trip to the playground? We bought presents for this?" The rational side of me knows that if the tables had been turned I probably would have been happy to sit at a park on a sunny day while my kid played with his friends.
Actually, no, I take that back because if the tables were turned I totally would have dropped my kid off and run to Target.
The irrational side of me thought, "We better DO SOMETHING NOW."
So, Husband and I rounded up all 25 kids for relay races and games. We did one where the kids had to put on a bunch of random clothes and one where they had to balance lima beans on a spoon. We played sharks and minnows and duck duck goose. The kids were eating it up. They wanted MORE. There was still an hour of the party left and I was out of games.
I turned it over to Husband. "Time for a light saber fight!" He declared. He then proceeded to divide the kids into three groups based on the color of their pool noodles - er - light sabers; red, blue and green. He spoke to each group individually in a huddle. OK, I thought, he really does have this under control. He's giving them rules and directions. Maybe I underestimated his leadership abilities. After all, he's in a directorial role at work. He leads people all the time.
Husband walked to the middle of the field and yelled "GO!"
What ensued can only be described as mass chaos. They broke free from their 'teams' and went at it hitting each others sabers (and sometimes their bodies) with their own sabers (and sometimes their bodies). It was every man for himself - boys hitting girls, girls hitting boys, cousins hitting cousins. The littlest kid in the group, my neice Cailey, was unabashedly whaling on the biggest kid in the group, her cousin Bryce. These kids were fierce, they were fast, they were having FUN.
At one point one of the little girls ran up to her mom, who was watching the scene with her jaw slightly dropped, and declared "This is the part of the party where we FIGHT!" She then let out a little whoop and returned to the battle.
I'm pretty sure this kind of thing is where the inspiration for The Hunger Games came from.
Ten minutes later the battle wasn't letting up. So far there had been no casualties however there was no clear victor either. "When do we stop this?" I asked Husband. He shrugged. The kids were having fun, his job was over. I waited five more minutes. "You guys can surrender and go back to playing on the playground!" I yelled. A six year old little girl gave me a LOOK, "I am not done fighting" she informed me. Okaaay.
Eventually hunger took over and the warriors -er- children were lured back to the picnic tables with the promise of cupcakes. However as soon as the food was consumed they were back at it on the playground, waving their sabers and having a blast. In fact, most of the kids neglected to even take a goody bag on the way out, but they all remembered to take their noodle -er- saber.
At the end of the party Husband high-fived me. "We did it!" he said.
I thought about it.
Good weather? Check.
Happy guests? Check.
Happy birthday boy?
As I tucked kid #1 into bed that night I asked him, "So, were you happy with your party? Did I do OK?" Yes, I'm pretty transparent when it comes from seeking approval from my six year old. I look at it as making sure he has plenty to talk about in therapy one day.
"Oh mom, it was AWESOME! You're the BEST MOM EVER!" He said, throwing his arms around me and hugging me tight.
Check.
"Really?" I asked, even though he had pretty much just made all the hard work and worrying worthwhile.
"Yes!" He said. "But, next year can I PLEASE have my party at Chuck E. Cheese's?"
DONE.
The next day I was on my own all day with three kids who wanted to open every single one of those Star Wars Lego kits (yes, even the baby - apparently teeny tiny lego pieces are a delicacy amongst those who only have four teeth) and assemble their contents on the spot. Who knew the step by step directions I used to follow to build my post-college Ikea furnirture would prepare me for a future of constructing The Millenium Falcon and Battle Droids? They needed batteries for every talking toy superhero. They wanted to hang the solar system mobile and try out the volcano kit that actually erupts (shout out to the two friends who actually brought educational gifts).
Anyway, that night found me experiencing some sort of stress related tension headache (can a 6 year old's birthday cause PTSD?) and I passed out at 8:30 pm without even washing my face or changing out of my daytime clothes (which, I do admit, very closely resembled my nighttime clothes, so there's that).
Considering my bedtime routine is more elaborate than my three-year-old's three-stories-and-two-glasses-of-water-and-ten-minutes-of-cuddle-time ordeal, this SAYS SOMETHING.
Mainly, that if it's taken me three days to recover from his sixth birthday party I fear his bar mitzvah.
See, they don't tell you that throwing your kids birthday parties is one of those things that starts out really fun and turns into something you do because it would be mean not to, like taking the family on a trip to Disney World, or having sex with your husband (I kid, honey, I KID!) It's in the book of "stuff we won't tell women or they'll never have kids" - right after the chapter on how you'll never sneeze again without worrying about whether or not you just peed in your pants.
Actually, in the beginning, birthday parties are not that bad. The first birthday party you ever throw for your first baby is HUGE. It's really more of a celebration of YOU than of them - YOU survived post partum hormones, YOU lived through three to six months of three am feedings, and YOU have come to terms with every piece of clothing you own being permanently stained with someone else's bodily fluids (and I don't mean in a 'Monica and Bill' way, I mean it in a 'pee and poop' way).
YOU deserve to celebrate.
And so you put that Pinterest board to use making crafty little invitations, homemade decorations to reflect the 'theme' of the party like You Are My Sunshine or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or Elmo's World. Forget the fact that your one year old can't say 'sunshine', doesn't have a clue what a caterpillar is, and gets Elmo and Daddy mixed up on a regular basis. This isn't about them, this is about you. You've just given yourself carpal tunnel syndrome decorating a cake that looks like Cookie Monster. YOU ARE THE BEST MOM EVER.
Fast forward six years. You have now had a birthday party at every Little Gym and Inflatable House of Horrors - er - Palace- in your metropolitan area and it's time to plan ANOTHER PARTY.
I asked Kid #1 what he wanted to do for his upcoming birthday. He said Chuck E. Cheese's. I thought about it. True, he had his party there just last year, but it was soooo easy. Fill out a form online, and then coast on autopilot until the day of the party. Chuck does everything for you - evites, food, drinks, even favors. Hell, I bet we could get him to get your kid to write the thank you notes for an additional fee (OMG I would totally pay someone to do that for me). Leave with the presents and the kids you came with.
Really, they stamp your hand to make sure you take the correct kid. I have no words for the person who made that a thing they need to do, but now that I have three kids I kind of get it.
So I said to kid: "Alright. Chuck E. Cheese's it is. How about we invite all the boys in your class?" I'd noticed that kids have started doing same-sex parties and it seemed like a good way to keep the numbers down. True, there wasn't going to be an open bar or anything, but when you're paying per kid, that shit adds up.
Kid said, "OK. All the boys. And a few of the girls...you know the ones who were in my playgroup and the ones who went to my summer camp." I explained that we can't invite all of the boys and just half of the girls. He nodded. "So we'll invite my whole class then. And also I want some of my old preschool friends. And the people who used to live in my old neighborhood..."
Suddenly I had a flashback of planning my wedding and a similar conversation with my husband that resulted in a guest list of over 300 people.
I thanked God that as the mother of the groom I will NOT be paying for this kid's wedding.
Nor will I be paying for 25 kids to play ski ball and eat cardboard - I mean pizza - at Chuck E. Cheese's. At $15 a head, that's....a lot of money for video games and a dancing mouse (math was never my strong suit).
I consulted my husband, who in the past has never been consulted about the place or time of a birthday party because he generally doesn't have an opinion and then I get mad because WHY DOESN'T HE HAVE AN OPINION and then I just do what I want anyway. But this time I was stuck and needed help. Either we've done it, it's booked, or it's just too damn expensive for 25 kids.
"So, have it at the Community Park/Playground." He said.
"But what will they DO?" I asked.
"Play?" he offered.
I thought about it. On one hand, I have always sworn up and down I would never throw a party dependent on the weather. I think that, unless you live in San Diego (or Camelot) where you are guaranteed perfect weather every single day you should never plan an outdoor event unless you want to give yourself an ulcer. On the other hand, if it's a nice day, we really won't need much to entertain the kids. There's a huge playground. This is a kindergarten class that plays together every day at recess. Throw in a relay race or two and some snacks and DONE. It's in the bag.
So I scheduled the party, ordered some Star Wars themed decorations and party favors, and perused the Pinterest boards looking for cute and creative party ideas. You would not believe how many possibilities there are for Star Wars themed parties out there. Or maybe, if you are not me and did not grow up totally oblivious to the Star Wars franchise, you would believe it. The themed snack food ideas alone are ridiculous- Wookie cookies, Yoda Soda, Obi Wan Kabobbies (these were fruit skewers, obvi), Vader veggies. I could have gone nuts and dipped pretzel sticks in frosting and made them into light sabers bought potato chips and called them Leia Lays. In the end, I decided that these kids were just barely mastering their sight words, my clever 'punny' snack names would probably fly right over their little heads. Also, I'd like to know what kid eats veggies at a birthday party. Always remember your audience. I bought some pretzels and chips and cupcake mix and called it a day.
The weekend of the party arrived. Every time the weather called for showers on Sunday I told myself the forecasters were high and didn't know what they were talking about. Every time it called for sun I took it as gospel because Al Roker is NEVER WRONG. I spent Saturday wrapping the ends of 25 pool noodles with duct tape and turning them into light sabers (the one Pinterest craft I actually attempted from the 250 pins on my Star Wars Party board), frosting cupcakes (blue for the Force, red for the Dark Side, duh) and stuffing party favor bags with....well total crap because let's face it it's either going to get gobbled up on the car ride home or thrown out the second the kids walk in the door.
So that night the Husband and I escaped for a dinner a deux to unwind before the big day. And by unwind I mean I sat there and literally had a PANIC ATTACK because WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO FOR TWO HOURS WITH 25 KIDS?
Husband reacted like he usually does when I freak out - by giving me a blank stare. "We'll give them the pool noodles and let them have light saber fights." No, I insisted, we couldn't just let them whack each other with pool noodles for two hours- we needed games with rules, a craft project, something to provide structure and purpose to what would otherwise be a trip to the playground with cupcakes. What was I thinking not letting Chuck take the wheel? This party was going to SUCK!
To be honest, I'm not sure what I was more worried about - that the kids would be bored or that the birthday boy would be let down. After all, it was HIS day, HIS chance to host his friends and be THE BIRTHDAY BOY. I needed to make sure that as his mom I gave him the party that at the end of the day would make him think "Wow, I have the BEST MOM EVER."
Like most things in my life that start out about other people, I was inevitably making this party all about me.
Trust me," Husband said, "this will be fine."
The day of the party dawned sunny and warm. We literally couldn't have asked for more perfect weather. I worried that I might actually have to follow through on some of the promises I'd made with God and give him my firstborn after the party. We got to the playground early, claimed our picnic tables, and threw a lot of Star Wars paper products on them. The kids arrived, handed over their presents, and started playing on the playground. So far so good.
After about twenty minutes of 'free play' I started to get nervous. A few of the parents had opted to stay at the party and I felt like they were watching me, judging me, thinking "Is this just another trip to the playground? We bought presents for this?" The rational side of me knows that if the tables had been turned I probably would have been happy to sit at a park on a sunny day while my kid played with his friends.
Actually, no, I take that back because if the tables were turned I totally would have dropped my kid off and run to Target.
The irrational side of me thought, "We better DO SOMETHING NOW."
So, Husband and I rounded up all 25 kids for relay races and games. We did one where the kids had to put on a bunch of random clothes and one where they had to balance lima beans on a spoon. We played sharks and minnows and duck duck goose. The kids were eating it up. They wanted MORE. There was still an hour of the party left and I was out of games.
I turned it over to Husband. "Time for a light saber fight!" He declared. He then proceeded to divide the kids into three groups based on the color of their pool noodles - er - light sabers; red, blue and green. He spoke to each group individually in a huddle. OK, I thought, he really does have this under control. He's giving them rules and directions. Maybe I underestimated his leadership abilities. After all, he's in a directorial role at work. He leads people all the time.
Husband walked to the middle of the field and yelled "GO!"
What ensued can only be described as mass chaos. They broke free from their 'teams' and went at it hitting each others sabers (and sometimes their bodies) with their own sabers (and sometimes their bodies). It was every man for himself - boys hitting girls, girls hitting boys, cousins hitting cousins. The littlest kid in the group, my neice Cailey, was unabashedly whaling on the biggest kid in the group, her cousin Bryce. These kids were fierce, they were fast, they were having FUN.
At one point one of the little girls ran up to her mom, who was watching the scene with her jaw slightly dropped, and declared "This is the part of the party where we FIGHT!" She then let out a little whoop and returned to the battle.
I'm pretty sure this kind of thing is where the inspiration for The Hunger Games came from.
Ten minutes later the battle wasn't letting up. So far there had been no casualties however there was no clear victor either. "When do we stop this?" I asked Husband. He shrugged. The kids were having fun, his job was over. I waited five more minutes. "You guys can surrender and go back to playing on the playground!" I yelled. A six year old little girl gave me a LOOK, "I am not done fighting" she informed me. Okaaay.
Eventually hunger took over and the warriors -er- children were lured back to the picnic tables with the promise of cupcakes. However as soon as the food was consumed they were back at it on the playground, waving their sabers and having a blast. In fact, most of the kids neglected to even take a goody bag on the way out, but they all remembered to take their noodle -er- saber.
At the end of the party Husband high-fived me. "We did it!" he said.
I thought about it.
Good weather? Check.
Happy guests? Check.
Happy birthday boy?
As I tucked kid #1 into bed that night I asked him, "So, were you happy with your party? Did I do OK?" Yes, I'm pretty transparent when it comes from seeking approval from my six year old. I look at it as making sure he has plenty to talk about in therapy one day.
"Oh mom, it was AWESOME! You're the BEST MOM EVER!" He said, throwing his arms around me and hugging me tight.
Check.
"Really?" I asked, even though he had pretty much just made all the hard work and worrying worthwhile.
"Yes!" He said. "But, next year can I PLEASE have my party at Chuck E. Cheese's?"
DONE.
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