Tomorrow we are going to a
birthday party for James’ buddy, Alexa.
Alexa is turning one and I will get my first taste in quite some time of
the hubbub that surrounds baby’s first birthday. We received our very colorful, personalized
invitation last week. In two short
months it will be my turn. Or rather
James’ turn. Or maybe my turn…
It seems to me that mommies
put way too much pressure on themselves to make their child’s first birthday an
event to remember forever. But I ask
you: do any of you remember your first birthday? I thought not. I sure don’t.
There are lots of pictures of me and Mom unwrapping presents together
and there was a “kitty cat” cake. But I
remember nothing. In fact, I don’t remember any
of my birthdays until I turned 5, when I got my first Barbie (now that was memorable).
I’ve witnessed and read tales
of the first birthday party. Of the obsessive
planning that started months ahead of time.
Of the mom who wants her child’s face to light up in wonder at the
candles and decorations and brightly-wrapped gifts. Of the bookoos of dollars that went into
custom invitations, themed decorations, bakery cupcakes, and favors for the
guests. And my initial reaction is, “My baby’s
face lights up in wonder when I give him the diaper cream tube on the changing
table.”
I have told myself that I
won’t be one of those moms. I won’t be
the one who stresses and worries about every little thing. I won’t spend our month’s grocery budget on
fancy appetizers served on bright blue “Happy 1st Birthday”
plates. (Which are really funny to watch
grown ups carry around.) Oh, James will
have a get-together, but it will be a simple affair, centered on the popular party
theme of frugality. I will stay strong!
…and then I see this face…
And this one…
And this one…
And I think about the year
we’ve had and all the milestones we’ve
achieved. Or James has achieved. Or maybe we have achieved... Nursing, sleeping through the night, smiling,
rolling over, sitting up, eating solid food, pulling up to stand, cruising
around furniture, climbing stairs, pulling books off the bookshelf, pulling a shelf off the bookshelf. I think of the babies who never had a chance
to get to their first birthday. Of the
incomparable blessing it is to live in a time where there is an abundance of
healthy food and vaccinations and disposable diapers (hey…it’s true).
All of the sudden, it sure
seems like there’s a lot to celebrate.
So I did it. I got online today. I started looking at dates and at customized
invitations. I found a really cute one
with a little bear on it. It wasn’t as
expensive as the ones where you can put your baby’s picture in it, but
definitely more expensive than the ones you can pick up at The Party
Store. I started thinking about a little
bear theme, since James D Bear would like that.
I jotted down an initial guest list and checked to make sure the Bills
weren’t playing on the Sunday afternoon I earmarked as a possible date. (Because that would nix the whole thing for
half the guest list.) I started imagining
James eating his first cupcake. Of our
precious family and friends gathered together to celebrate his little
life. And my resolve went down the
diaper pail.
More blogs to come on the
birthday party. But there will be
one. Yep. There will.
No comments:
Post a Comment