My parents always gave me amazing birthday parties. My mom made delicious and beautiful cakes. I pretty much got to do whatever activity/theme I wanted. But still, I was always a bit jealous of the kids who got to have birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese or the roller skating rink, complete with a big store-bought cake with mounds of gross frosting.
So, when the opportunity came for a joint party with four of Sammy's friends (including his "best cousin") who all have birthdays very close to each other, we decided to go for it. Today was the big day.
Classic Skating has climbing toys, bouncing toys, a giant skating/scootering/tricycling rink. We invited a million kids (okay, there were only TWENTY FIVE four- and five-year-olds). We got pizza. We had Spider-Man cupcakes. Half the kids wore superhero costumes. It was fun for the kids and I didn't have to plan anything.
But I guess chaos is not my forte. I only had to keep track of a few kids other than my own. No one got into fights, got sick, or got lost. Still, the whole thing left me feeling a bit unsettled. Most of the kids just played with one or two others, which I guess always happens when that many kids are together. Sammy got some presents, but in the confusion he was never sure who they were from. I found myself thinking, "When can I go home?" instead of, "What great friends and what a cute birthday boy." I didn't get to have fun with the kids.
I hope my kids don't resent me for this, but I think it's back to the hokey, homemade, play-in-the-backyard kind of parties next year. I kind of enjoy the party planning and cupcake making. It's nice for me to feel like a part of Sammy's crowd during these younger years while he still acknowledges my presence. Thanks mom, for all the years you threw great parties for me. Or did you do it for your own sanity?
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