Party Politics

I brought the girls back from a fabulous party at the nature reserve where they explored the natural flora hunting for fossils and dinosaur eggs. I got seriously reprimanded when I took two tiny dinosaurs out of my handbag and was told that they had to stay there as that was their home. 

Er, I don't think so.

But it got me to thinking about the whole aspect of kid's birthday parties.

I can remember only two birthday parties that I had as a child. The one I remember because there are a couple of photographs stuck in an old photo album proving that it happened (6 candles on the cake), and the other I remember because I got into trouble after one of my invited guests smeared ketchup on the dining room wall. I don't remember how old I was.

I guess that it is because of this vast gap in my memory and photographic history, that the presenting of birthday parties for my own children has become such an important aspect of my own parenting self-evaluation criteria. Perhaps it's a little crazy, but I feel the need to host memorable parties for my children and have at least 100 photos of each event to prove to them that I cared enough to celebrate the anniversary. I realise that the only person who is stressing about the next birthday party is me, and half the time the kids haven't got the slightest idea of how much effort has gone into the preparation of their festivities. And yet it is so important for me that my children don't have "just another" birthday party that could have been anybody's party. The party HAS to stand out. They HAVE to remember it. And if they don't get it now, one day when they have kids of their own, they'll understand just how much I wanted to make their birthdays special for them.

Not that I'm trivialising the run-of-the-mill birthday party either. My kids have had tons of fun at very simple parties where there was no theme, no organised party games and no take-home treats. So why then do I labour and obsess for months in advance about the next birthday celebration? 

My children celebrate their birthdays in July and December, and believe it or not, on the evening of the last birthday bash, the next party's theme is decided and the mental planning commences as I lay my head down to sleep off the after-party hangover. 

I know. It's bizarre. But it's me. And the truth is that I love it. I love making things for the parties. Butterfly wings, fairies to hide in the garden, Spoonfuls of sugar, marshmallow mermaids, magic castles to make believe in. And each birthday holds a new idea, a new craft, a new challenge. Being creative helps, and I find that having a party to plan for provides  me with an outlet for my creativity. So, party planning becomes a bit of a hobby for me, keeping me challenged and productive throughout the year.

The downfall of fancy festivities is that the invitation lists are generally inflexible as I have to know well in advance exactly how many tutus and tiaras I have to make. 

Which brings me to the other aspect: Girls vs Boys.

The party themes so far have been: Pretty in Pink, Bubbles, Butterflies, Fairies, Princesses, Mary Poppins and Mermaids. Next on the list is Ballet. As you can see, generally the themes picked are really girly. The problem of accommodating boys to, say, the upcoming Ballet Party, really has me unsettled. If each of the little girls at the ballet party gets to dress up in a ballet skirt, dancing ribbons and satin slippers, and they get to dance to their little hearts' content to the Nutcracker Suite, what do the little boys do? Not having any boys of my own, trying to cater to boy interests while keeping the feminine theme really floors me. I don't even have boys stuff for the boys to do while the girls play Swan Lake (unless  they're into paper dolls and dress-up). And in that case, why are they invited to the party? 

Guilt. It drives the party industry.

You have to invite the people that invited you, right? Or, if they invite you, and you aren't planning on inviting them, do you not accept their invitation?

I have told my kids that they can invite 10 people to their parties (with the two of them it makes twelve, and twelve is a manageable number to cater for and to manage on the day of the event). The problem with this restriction is that once the cousins and extended family are invited, there isn't much space for anyone else. And you can't not invite family - they know when the birthdays are and sort of keep track of approaching anniversaries by inquiring how the preparations are coming along.

Recently, the whole issue of party politics has raised it's nasty head making it very clear that party invitations are actually remote control devices which can potentially set off little parent land-mines if aimed in the wrong direction. People seem to be really concerned about who gets invited to who's party. Which kind of puts a lot of pressure on the next party thrower who just about has to send around an approval list to make sure the date, theme and venue are suitable to everybody's liking.

So I stand in awe of the mom who nonchalantly extends an invitation at the last moment. "Come if you can," she says. "The kids are so welcome. There's plenty for everybody!" I couldn't do it. Jessican't needs the plan. Stick to the plan. Don't jump anything unsuspected on Jessican't.

Perhaps my obsession is ridiculous after all.