Grappling with the Birthday Beast
This essay was first published in May 2009 at parenting-journals.com.
My first taste of modern-day children’s birthday parties left me
goggling. Pushing my children on the playground swings, I listened
intently, nearly stepping into a swing, as a mother discussed organizing
her son’s party five months in advance, calling parents of children
with proximate birthdays to coordinate dates. My incredulity only
increased when a bewildered father wondered where to stow the many toys
his son had received for his birthday. That evening, a favorite comic
strip pictured a family going through customs en route to a birthday
celebration.
As a new parent, I naively assumed cake and homespun games still
sufficed at parties, as they had for generations. Understandably, busy
families might have started outsourcing event planning and coordination,
but rollicking carnivals for three-year-olds certainly constituted an
anomaly. Only after my playground experience, and once my family hit
the birthday party scene, did the mounting evidence convince me. What
was originally an honest attempt to save time and effort had escalated
into a formidable movement, turning celebrations into monstrous
undertakings.
Shuttling my daughters to parties, I witnessed the trend firsthand,
particularly on the entertainment front, where bedazzling guests was the
goal. Hosts routinely rented free-fall rides, booked princesses,
chartered petting zoos, and showcased scorpions in living rooms.
Unexpectedly, I found myself mesmerized by the merriment. Swallowing my
initial shock, I began to embrace this beast gone wild. After all,
birthdays marked important milestones and merited celebrations.
Furthermore, high-end amusement spelled good news for party guests, a
fact my children relished while moonwalk-jumping and rock-climbing away
Saturday afternoons.
Predictably, with invites pouring in, birthdays soon commandeered as
much family calendar space as ballet or soccer. Purchasing gifts topped
our weekly errand list. Some weekends, the stack of outgoing presents
by the front door reached as high as a post-party tower of empty pizza
boxes. Nevertheless, in keeping with the prosperous times, my children
partied on.
Sometime after the umpteenth party, however, my enthusiasm waned.
Wiping smeared face paint from my sweater, I reflected upon the
long-term effects of theme cakes, dollar store prizes, and extreme fun.
Though a blast for the kids, shifting the focus to wowing party-goers
seemed to sap hosts’ savings and shatter their sanity. I recalled a
friend, knee-deep in favor bags she had spent a vacation day
bargain-hunting for, wondering if select universities offered degrees in
birthday management. Furthermore, as presents piled up, parents’ hopes
of teaching gratitude deflated faster than a punctured balloon.
Finally, tempted to set up birthday savings plans, rather than
earmarking funds for higher education, I vowed to counter this trend.
About to enroll my preschooler in swim lessons (a prerequisite for
kindergarten pool parties), I switched course, embarking instead upon a
quest to tame the birthday beast.
First, I limited parties my children attended, unburdening our
schedules. When hosting, I consulted birthdayswithoutpressure.org,
where extravagance-cutting suggestions abound: inviting only friends;
simplifying entertainment; substituting charitable donations for
presents. Eager to put a leash on the beast, I attempted to follow this
advice, but soon faltered, adding guests and trinkets, even while
impairing finances, as I regretted throwing an unimpressive event and
not reciprocating some invitations. Reining in a monster requires
resolve.
Next, I tried domesticating the animal, throwing a backyard bash.
Compensating for the lack of professional revelry, I prepared over
twenty games, yet, the beast still prevailed. Accustomed to
razzle-dazzle in the entertainment department, the guests expected more
than dance contests and musical chairs, and expressed their
disappointment by refusing to follow game rules and squabbling over
prizes. Overwhelmed with containing the disgruntlement, I forgot to
take pictures. With high standards and a monstrous ravenousness, today’s
kids prove a tough crowd.
Down 2-0, I considered scheduling the next function at an inconvenient
time, hoping to outwit the monster with fewer guests and a lighter
bill. Thankfully, before regrets could accumulate, I overheard parents
at the playground, once again discussing birthdays. With the economy a
shambles, I held my breath, curious if celebrations had come full
circle, and if pin-the-tail would make a comeback, now that many
families had lost savings, bonuses, jobs, and even houses. Finally, a
mother disclosed her newfound strategy. Instead of offering her son a
choice of party locales, she simply asked how he wanted to spend his
special day. To her relief, he decided to bring a friend fishing,
foregoing a party.
Busy grappling with the beast, I had overlooked this obvious approach.
Focusing on the child, though, rather than the monster, made sense. In
fact, laying aside expectations and spotlighting the birthday child’s
interests seemed essential to achieving more reasonable birthdays,
regardless of the Dow’s performance. Possibly, my children would insist
on the hottest party joint in town, but with some luck, they might name
an activity limited to friends or relatives. Or, perhaps, they might
choose fishing.
Copyright © 2009-2013 by Jennifer Kirsch. All Rights Reserved.