Saturday 16 October 2010

Birthday Party (or not)

Recently, that wonderful but dreaded time of my daughters birthday raced toward me. Not only did I have to adjust to her becoming a whopping five years old,(five! Already!) such a momentous occassion could not of course be allowed to slip quietly by in a quiet, dignified and 35 year old way. Oh no. There must be a party. Or must there? Competition amongst parents is fierce when it comes to birthday parties. Get it wrong and you find yourself suddenly ostracised at the school gates. If, on the other hand you carry it off as a big-hearted-eco-friendly-domestic goddess, you may claim your rightful place as the object of all envy.
As the big day came thundering toward me with, it seemed gathering momentum and great expectation, (hers, not mine), I considered the options.

1. No Celebration. Unthinkable even for a grumpy, unsentimental person such as myself.

2. Wacky Warehouse. Again unthinkable, but for entirely different reasons. I have been to Wacky Warehouse more times than I care to remember and every time, after about ten seconds of stepping through the door, I ask myself why I thought going there was such a great idea. It can only be sheer desperation that would cause an otherwise sane individual, (that is I), to voluntarily submit themselves to what is basically a massive sensory overload. Why would I think that if two children are driving me mad, going somewhere where there are a hundred squealing young is the answer? True, I can drink a relatively hot cup of 'coffee' undisturbed and if all I want to do is drink and stare dumbly at the wall then fair play. Concentration is impossible and should I be lucky enough to have the company of another half crazed mother, conversation is equally difficult, frequently punctuated as it is by piercing screams, indeed once, one of them was mine. Not only that, but I cant quite completely relax and spend every five minutes or so frantically scanning ball pools and slides searching for the offspring. At least, I used to scan every five minutes, since watching several seaons of 'Criminal Minds' back to back, my paranoia has reached new levels and I now scan every two.
Clearly then, the wacky party was a definite no.

3. The home based party. Ermm, I did consider this and not too briefly either, but in the end, this too was discarded as a fitting way to celebrate the beginning of our girls sixth year. A party at home requires not only more and more imaginative ways to play musical statues/bumps/chairs, but also the dreaded Party Bag. Our kids love party bags. When they receive an invitation to a party they are already anticipating the inevitable mass produced plastic content contained therein, just as I am as quick to breathe a sigh of relief that it isnt a 'funhouse' party. No, if I was going to do party bags I would want to put into them proper gifts, gifts that would last longer than thirty minutes and that hadnt necessarily been made in China. I would put in gifts that would not cause parents to say "Wow" in a dead monotone, or cause them to worry about spills, stains or E numbers. If our kids gave out party bags, they would be filled with quality items that would entertain and endure. No matter that the cost of such wondrous offerings would mean they were permitted only one guest, it would be the prada of the party bag.
You see then the dilemma. Our daughter would shortly turn five, the magic number where it seems her independence and knowledge of the world has instantaneously quadrupled and I am being told constantly to "stop fussing." I had to think of something fast.
And then it came to me in a rare moment of clarity. She would not mind how much the party, (or not) cost. She wouldnt remember if little Chardonnay had had exactly the same party the year before and she certainly wouldnt care whether I bought party bags or made them myself with my teeth out of handmade paper. I had had the most revolutionary birthday celebration idea. Minimal cost, zero imported plastic and maximum offspring satisfaction. Playing. Would you believe, children love it. It's free, it makes them happy and they get to choose the games and the themes. Call me a rebel, but I refused to compete, scoffed at the idea of mini carrier bags filled with tat and instead watched proudly as our daughter and her closest friends, (at that time) had fun, inside and out, upstairs and down with hardly any adult interference. At the critical moment when the birthday girl was inclined to become a little diva-ish turning her guests into faithful puppies with a swish of her sparkly pink wand, a scrumptious tea was served. No celebraton would be complete without jelly and ice cream not to mention the pink pony birthday cake which very nearly wasnt.
And have I been shunned at the school gate? Not yet, although neither am I an object of envy. I am instead the mother of a five year old little girl who giggled her way through her birthday.