I always felt a bit smug when observing the over-the-top birthday celebrations so many parents throw for their children. I certainly didn't grow up in an Oliver Twist world, but we didn't really do much for birthdays. We had some ice cream cake after dinner and maybe a gift. My favorite birthday was when my mother took me and two of my friends to the roller rink. Little did I know she was panic-stricken the entire time. It seems the four of us were locked behind steel doors in the cellar of a bowling alley with no other means of exit. Mom sat there grimacing, clutching her purse and praying that no disasters befell us. We had no idea. We were rolling around to the fine melodies of Peaches and Herb. Reunited and it feels so good..
But I digress. I'm sorry to say I was a bit relieved when I realized that having Margot's birthday in July meant we could avoid the obnoxious birthday parties. You know the ones. Theme parties with expensive rides and games. Entertainers. Fancy party bags. Huge, costly cakes shaped like super-heroes or princesses. Tons of gifts. One friend threw a party for her son and the kids turned on her when she told them there weren't any party bags. Ungrateful mites. I managed to avoid parties for her first two birthdays as she didn't know the difference. We had small BBQs with a gift or two, mostly from the grandparents. Then, we entered her third year.
I was surprised to arrive in London and find that birthday extravaganzas are just as prevalent here. I thought that was another quaint, overly-commercialized and branded American tradition. Parties came up in conversation over and over again. "Where are you having her party?" "Have you booked anything yet?" "The good places get filled quickly."
Then, we started getting invitations. Margot's play-group is age-based so all the birthdays fell within a six-month period. Actually, the parties were quite nice and Margot loved every one of them. Birthday party became one of her favorite games. And, she began talking endlessly about her own birthday party. I was planning on my typical summer BBQ back in the States with some family. But, it became apparent that Margot wanted to celebrate with her new London friends. I felt obligated to return the favor (or is it?) to her friends who had nice, sane parties of their own.
So, we did it. A Cinderella party. We invited 13 kids, including three sets of twins. Eleven kids came, and one left immediately after vomiting all over her father. They re-enacted the Cinderella story, which was pretty hysterical. Margot's Creative Movements teacher ran the show and kept them enthralled for more than an hour. Margot wore a reversible gown: one side was Cinderella's rags and the other, her ball gown. She had sparkly slippers for the ball. We had tons of balloons. The kids decorated a giant banner. I cooked all the food, believe it or not. We were told that the Brits think it's tacky to serve peanut butter so we made jelly rolls, mini pittas with ham and butter (never mayo or mustard) and mini bagels with cream cheese. We had chocolate cupcakes with pink and blue frosting. My friend Chris imported Crisco from Minnesota for the super-sweet frosting.
Margot had a blast. She said throughout, "It's so beautiful. I'm so happy." At the end of all this, during clean-up, she turned to me and said, "So, Mommy, what do you want to do today?"
When we returned to the States, the party continued. We had the requisite family BBQ and Margot was spoiled rotten by all her aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Presents arrived for weeks. It was over-the-top. Guess I can't be that smug anymore.
Margot is already talking about when she turns four.
See bday photos here.
