Well, it's that time of year again at Chez Counce. My sons, also known as The Boys of Summer, also known as Borg Designations 1 of 3 and 2 of 3, are having birthdays this week (yes, I had two sons two years apart in hottest time of the year in the hottest place in the country. It's how I roll). Time once again for their combined children's birthday party, also known as: The Seventh Canto of Hell.
Seriously, children's birthday parties are a beating, whether you're the parent throwing one or attending one. I'm channeling the Grinch: oh the noise, noise, noise, noise. Have a couple of children, though, and count on it: you'll be attending one of these beauties practically every weekend (this will be chapter four of my upcoming book: They Did Not Tell Me This at the Hospital).
And I'm sorry to say, parents, I've been to some real turds of parties you've put on. Don't get me wrong! Clearly you just lack some insight into how to make your children's party suck less for the adults and yes, even the children. Luckily, you have me. Let me edu-tain you regarding some key ways to avoid your child's party torturing the adults who are compelled to attend as well.
Let's begin, as they say, at the beginning. Is your party at your home? Is it too much to answer the door yourself, ask me who I am, grin at my face, and introduce me to the other adults? DO IT OR SUCK. Or if you have help answering the door, please have it be someone who knows how to make eye contact and actually greet me and who will lead me to you, the host, and say something like "Oh, look! 1 of 3 and his mother are here!" At which point you take over the welcoming. It sounds complicated, but I know working together, we can do it. Acquire breeding, that is.
You, the host or hostess, should be on the lookout for arrivals whatever the setting. Smile at these people who come bearing gifts. Realize these parents would rather be having a root canal. Give some sign we're in this together, people. I even make the rounds to all the adults during the party to spread some chat around equally. We hate those three moms who always clique up and leave some other poor woman studying her manicure by the bounce house. It's called warmth. Look into it.
It's not gonna kill you to have something for adults to snack on, too. I'm not saying make it a reception, but I'm supplying water, fruit, and veg for my adult guests to snack on while their offspring wear themselves out. And enough pizza and cake for the adults, too. Just because we're over four feet tall doesn't mean we don't want to shove frosted roses in our faces.
Make sure your venue is age appropriate. Two year olds don't know what "treasure" means. Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not make me take her by the wrist and drag her all over a sports complex through crowds of people on a hunt for one. And take it easy on the scheduling of crafty projects. Bob Vila couldn't complete some of the crazy kits you Intensive Mothering types find at wherever you crazy OCD ladies shop.
Sorry to say it, mom, but the cutesy games, themes, and activities you came up with ain't about your kid. And they make me work too freaking hard. I barely managed to get a shower to get to your kid's party. I'm not in the mood to get in the floor and laminate a place mat. Right before we decorate our own cupcakes and cobble a shoe for a party favor.
And speaking of those favors: can we all just agree that the minute we get home we take that plastic Chinese crap and toss it in the trash? There. I've said it aloud. I am not going to look down on you if you don't have some cheesy gift bag for my already over-indulged kid. He gets presents for just staying awake already, practically, and I'll just be stepping on the damn things in the dark. Got a balloon? Let's call it even.
So wish me luck this weekend as my boys celebrate their natal days with their friends. If any of the children's parties I attend in the future suck less, my work here will have been done. And if you're one of the lucky parents who will be attending the birthday bash for the Counce kids, you're welcome. I'm just sorry the bounce house doesn't serve hooch.
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