I think it was my seventh birthday. My mom was throwing me a party with all the neighborhood kids. I hated the neighborhood kids. There were only two of them. And they were twins. Evil twins. There was no logical reason to invite them.
Huh? What was that supposed to mean?
Fast forward to me as The Mother.
I had told myself that when I had children they would have great birthday parties. But even my version of a good party (some cake, a few presents, no smelly boys) was nothing compared to what some of my fellow mommies were doing.
I recall one mother planning the most elaborate backyard birthday party for her four-year-old(our daughters were friends in pre-school). There were stations, complete with pony rides, a magician, a local politician and an aesthetician giving mini facials. The sad thing was that the birthday girl cried the whole time. So did I. It was overwhelming. To stay calm I had two pony rides and six mini-facials myself, which made all the other little girls cry because I held up the line.
So when Number 1 was about to turn seven I put my foot down. And not too skillfully I might add.
There have been battles over birthdays, and all of them in my head. Should I hire a caterer and serve vichyssoise?; Should I see if David Copperfield does birthday parties for 5-year-olds?“–that would certainly top all the other magician parties!; Should I mortgage my house to get Myley Cyrus flown in to sing Happy Birthday?; Should I kidnap the entire cast of Glee to prove how much I love my kids?
Should I just shoot myself?
Numbers 2 and 4 have birthdays in August. Number 1 has a birthday coming up in October and then we have Number 3′s to celebrate in November. Is it a coincidence that all of these birthdays coincide with hurricane season?
Which is why I instituted the every-other-year rule a few years ago. Each of our children has had a big party every other year (and by big I mean some cake, a few presents and no smelly boys).
Now, when it comes to my birthday, I think a semi-annual celebration is well deserved!
