Mark the date and order a federal holiday – I have been to a non-offensive child’s birthday party. You heard it first! 

Seriously, I hold claim to a special seat that lifts me high above the masses and forces me to sit in judgment and issue wicked sermons about all things wrong that happen at children’s birthday parties.  There are three types of children’s birthday parties that make my head swivel around my spine:

1) Party Extraordinaire – defined by excess, over-the-top (yet boring) entertainment, a caterer, and typically a budget that exceeds $3,000

2) Chain Party – Chuck E. Cheese, Pump It Up, Inflatable Wonderland, Blazer Tag, Gatti-Town, and God help us, Club Libby Lu.  No need to elaborate on why these parties claim a top spot on my list of hatred.

3) Self-Righteous Back to Basics – these parties feature “simple” activities for children, like performing science experiments or churning butter. These parties are geared to right the wrongs of the Party Extraordinaire. However, when the parents add a healthy dose of “Higher than Mighty” it makes me vomit on their Patagonia jacket (if it were ever cold enough in Texas to wear a jacket.)

Tonight, by mistake, I went to a birthday party for a 7-year old. It’s Friday night and opening night for the 97th season of the Austin Symphony. My evening was planned for early drinks and nibbles with the handsome Professor followed by “Quiet Time” otherwise known as the symphony. A symphonic concert, to me, means a chance feel the affects of the earlier alcohol I consumed, time to evaluate my life, and uninterrupted time to work out character subplots.

It’s quite a different story for The Professor. He knows the music, as in, he knows the complete symphonies, like, the notes, and he can tell when a mistake has been made. He’s sweet and holds my hand while he listens (or evaluates) the music. I relax and scheme. When The Professor pulls his hand away from my hand, I take it as my cue to clap.  I have been known to nap during a symphony if the pre-drinks are plentiful. However, I was broken of that habit when I was snoozing with my legs crossed and my heavy wedge-heel shoe dropped loudly onto the concrete floor. Whoops.

Since The Professor endured (like a pix axe to the eye) Robert Earl Keen with me last night, I was looking forward to repaying the favor tonight and sitting at the symphony with him.  Sadly, the date night was not in the cards, as the babysitter had an asthma attack at 3:50. Frantically, I called everyone in my phone list and said things like:

“Hey!  Long time no talk (like two years).  How’re doing? Is there the tiniest possibility your daughter could baby-sit tonight in an hour or so?…..Wow! She’s in college already? Time flies. I can’t believe I didn’t know she graduated. Bad me (send gift next week).”

“Hey, Aunt Pam!  How’s the early retirement treating you?  Must be amazing with no kids at home and no job. Any chance your sweet niece and nephew could come over tonight?…..Oh, yikes! That sounds awful. All day in the bathroom? At least you’ll lose some weight. Feel better. See you at Thanksgiving!”

Email to high-powered relatives: “This is a long shot, but any chance you are free tonight and can host the children for dinner and a little rest?”

Text Message:  In New York, no can do. Would love to. Catch me next time!

Email Response Auto-reply “I’m out of the office traveling on business… call assistant” (Don’t you even think I didn’t consider calling the assistant!)

“Hi, it’s Bitsy from next door.  Any chance your nanny needs extra money? I’m paying top dollar!…..Yep. So it seems ALL the babysitters are going to the Austin City Limits music festival tonight.  Is there a babysitter convention within ACL?”

Finally, I gave up, switched gears and traded my silky shirt for jeans.  My 6-year old was scheduled to attend a birthday party, which I had already deemed unworthy. The invitation for the party was printed on copy paper in a standard font. The invitation said something like “in keeping with tradition, little Johnny does not want presents and instead wants to donate items to the Women’s Shelter.” Like hell Johnny doesn’t want presents!

Sitting in my glass house I hurled a stone—maybe lodged a brick – such a hypocrite because I ban gifts at my children’s parties too.  No doubt, it was a beautiful moment when I didn’t have to search the town for a perfect, child-pleasing gift. Instead I complied with the invitation and collected “gently used” children’s books from my son’s shelves. The shelves needed a cleanse to cull the outgrown books and instead of throwing them into the back of my car and feeling pressure to dump them at Goodwill, I wrapped beautiful ribbon around the books and felt like a good Samaritan. Hmm. First good thing about this party.

I didn’t want to like this mother any more than I liked her unimaginative invitation. There was no good reason for not liking her, but I decided because she had a passel of kids and carried one around in a sling that she was too wholesome and nice (and annoying) for me to befriend. 

Shockingly, when I went inside the house, it met all my criteria (functional, clean, interesting, not filled with plastic toys and video games), but what was so nice is that the mother didn’t ooze over my presence. She didn’t have time to pour on a false gush because she was calmly finishing the birthday cake….not finishing as in “over-committed, poor-planner, bit off too much” but finishing as in “it’s my son’s birthday and I baked a cake for him and his friends.”  It was still warm!

The cake was chocolate with chocolate icing and was not out of a box. She had made cupcakes out of the extra batter and nonchalantly placed the cupcakes around the cake on a cake stand. FREAK MY WORLD. 

I could never waited until the last minute to frost the cake – what if something went wrong?
I could never place random cupcakes next to the cake – how could she not have agonized over the design?
I could never have that many children in my house – without a headcount, how could she know if there was going to be enough food?
I could never have a party that interfered with my children’s strict bedtime – what if the kids got an hour less sleep?

I could never…could I?

Good Ol’ Mom was not self-righteous either. She smiled, pointed to the beer, and was kind.  Between frosting the cake and serving the turkey dogs, she put her baby to bed. There was no rocking, cajoling, fretting. Good Ol’ Mom dropped her happy, sleepy baby into his bed, strapped on a baby monitor and rejoined the party after being away for about two minutes.

The kids played in the backyard and in the “climbing room”.  The climbing room was a tricked-out garage with hundreds of climbing holds on the four walls and the ceiling. The floor was covered with plush fall pads. The first-graders experienced sheer delight.

The climax of the party was a hay hunt.  Good Ol’ Mom hid goodies in a big pile of hay and the kids went crazy finding Whoopee Cushions, polished rocks, candy, masks, and even dollar bills! 

Instead of passing on the plate of calories, I accepted a piece of Good Ol’ Mom’s delicious chocolate cake. Coincidentally, instead of coming home and being obsessed with food, I did not fondle the cookies or stroke the cheese. Nor did I eat an entire box of cereal or a tub of Cool-Whip (fat free, of course). I was satisfied. Good Ol’ Mom’s cake filled my desire – hit the spot.

At 7:30 pm, we were bid goodnight and ushered through the arched gate. As I walked down the street with the other partygoers, no eyes were rolled, no smirks were affected and no catty remarks were issued.

Satisfied, I wondered what would it feel like to have Good Ol’ Mom as your mother?

Comments

[Glenna]

LOVE it! I used to be a hotel event planner and imagine everything you just said about weddings and know we're soulmates when it comes to parties. Great party and cool mom! Maybe that one's worth a coffee date with.

[Polly Poppins]

Ah, something to look forward to...

[Bitsy Parker]

Just you wait, Polly Poppins! You'll be tempted to host secret L and revolted by secret L's friends.

[hokgardner]

We've gone back to basics with parties, but not in a self-righteous way (except for my bragging about it here). Pizza for everyone, beer in the cooler on the back porch for the grown-ups and we turn the kids loose in the yard with toys and such. No butter churning in sight!

[Blonde Mom Jamie]

I like this mom. I kind of want to hate her, but she sounds so refreshingly laid back (whereas I tend to freak out over stupid things). Why do parents have to fall under one extreme or another? ;)

We have done the very simple family only parties at home and the last two years we've done the hometown generic Chuck E. Ratt's type pizza place party. That way the kids still get to play cheesie games, the parents get to drink beer, our house doesn't have to be clean, and we're not giving money to an obnoxious chain, but to a local business.