Winter babies are blessings in that they are babies. They are curses in the indoor celebrations of their birth FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES. Well at least until they want to go to a hockey game or something without me.
We celebrated G’s first birthday this past Sunday. And it was awesome. And what made it so awesome was that I vowed to all that is good and winter that I will do nothing for this party and just get other people to do it for me. You all know I’m an overthetop maniac when it comes to party planning and other time wasters. But before every damn party I pee out of my butt from stress. Then I have to clean up my whole house for days and also clean up the butt pee. No one wins. And so G’s party began with the vow to not have it in my house and it only grew from there.
Before you get all psycho voyeur on me, this is not the birthday picture post. This is the -Complain because even though I had everyone do everything for me and I wasn’t even THAT stressed, I still PUKED the night before and am still peeing out of my butt- post. But to be fair to the party gods, I think I have a bug, or an amoeba or something. My friend had an ameoba in Abu Dhabi and she said it was like evil was trying to escape out of her holes. That’s what I have. Hole evil.
But I digress. The party. We had 20 babies and 40 humans. Or adults. Whatever. It was not at my house. I did not realize the stress of having a large gaggle of folks staring at you and your baby for 3 hours. Do you even know that pressure? Like you get the cool place and the cool food and the cool music guy and every time your baby loses his shit, you feel like, OH SHIT. Because you know that your 1 year old doesn’t know his own diaper poop from his first birthday party and definitely does not care about the fruit mohawk or the blow up guitars or the super fancy music man who came to entertain the babies. But YOU care. Because you want it to be awesome and you are mildly psychotic in a million mild ways. And you is me, or I. I got carried away with that “you talk”.
So yeah, G lost his shit with all the people and the sounds and the stuff. And as SOON as we walked out of there and put him in his car seat, he giggles and smiles and laughs like THIS IS WHAT I WANTED THE WHOLE TIME. A CAR SEAT PARTY. So yeah, I mean who are we really kidding, we all know that these tiny baby parties are for us, the grown ups. But like I said into the microphone with a bucket of sobs and tears like a mental patient:
Me: sobsobsob sniff sniff I I I just want to say sobsobsob that B and I feel like this isn’t just a 1st birthday party. But it’s also a celebration that we made it through our first year with G. SOBSOBSOB (it’s getting ugly now). And that we couldn’t have done it without all of you. Because it was the most challenging year of our lives.
And thank you britney that that was not on video.
So that’s why it’s ok to throw a giant bash for your 1 year old who would rather have a damn car seat party. WE NEEDED IT. And so does every new parent. I also need some matchstick cords from J.Crew. AND SO DOES EVERY NEW PARENT. (was that believable? That was totally for B to read and hopefully he just stopped there)
Nope, I wasn’t kidding.
I promise to do a full party recap when the real pics come in. And I will say it now and again and again. I DID NONE OF IT. And I will give credit to the amazing people who actually did do stuff.