Thursday, May 10, 2012
Well, kind of.
I love special occasions, especially my kids' birthdays. In the past, I've always done it up big.
I mean BIG.
As in, for example, 1 of 8's 5th birthday. Theme? Pocahontas. Cake and cupcakes? Decorated to be sunflowers. Attendees? 15 five year olds. I turned the house into a veritable New England forest and sewed matching Native American costumes for 1 and 2 of 8 and had all the guests come as characters from the Disney movie.
That was a lot of fun. And a lot of work.
Fast foward seventeen years and I give you The OctaTwins Microwave Birthday Party.
The whole family was available on their actual birthday from 3:45 to 4:15 in the afternoon before several of us had to scatter for work commitments. So we gathered, sang, blew candles, ripped opened presents and hugged and kissed.
We had a little neighborhood party the next night, cooked out burgers and blew through cases of juice boxes. Just three friends, a little more cake and a minimum of party chaos.
It's the way of the OctaParty these last few years. And I usually walk away feeling a little guilty, like I coulda, shoulda, woulda done so much more.
And I suppose time will tell if the kids think it was enough or not.
But I do know that what is most important does happen on the kids' birthday. We celebrate them. We express gratitude and we eat too much cake and we let the wrapping paper float around the living room like confetti.
And the energy seems to go more into having time together, laughing and talking. It makes these celebrations fun, not draining. Because honestly, at this point, if I tried to pull off the great Pocahontas Gala of 1995, it would probably take me a week to recover.
Super Party Mom I am not.
But grateful, thankful mom I am.
Happy Birthday, my babies.