By Emily Spence of Sweet n’ Sour Mom
To Anyone Who Cares:
I have a birthday coming up. It’s the BIG 0-1! I heard Mom stressin’ a bit, wondering if she was making it as special as she did for my older sister’s (I think she just let people know via Facebook about my “party,” as opposed to the nice invites from Tinyprints, sent out for Big Sis, two years ago), but honestly, I could not care less! I mean, really, the first birthday party is truly just a celebration for the ‘rents. It’s a way for them to say, “Look, all! We survived that first year! We survived the sleepless nights, the issues with breastfeeding, and the issues with learning how to balance two kids!”
So, if Mom and Dad want to go out the night of my birthday to celebrate their accomplishments, it won’t matter to me! I’ll be in bed by 7 p.m. anyway! An obnoxious party, with a ton of balloons, a giant cake, and a banner—with pictures depicting my cute face changing over the past twelve months—just doesn’t do it for me. Oh, and I saw the ridiculous tutu Mom’s making me wear. Sigh.
No offense to anyone who’s coming, but a ton of you, up in my face, will probably be overwhelming. I’ll most likely scream louder than a banshee as you approach me with those gigantic smiles. And don’t even think for a second about ripping me out of the clutches of Mom’s arms! The whole thing just seems exhausting! I’ll have to have my picture taken a million times, then perform like a monkey, smashing a cake, while 25 flashes blind me.
We’ll start opening gifts, which Mom and Dad will basically do, as I gnaw on a card, counting down the minutes until nap time. Again, no offense to those bringing me a nice and thoughtful gift, but I’m not even sure I care about owning more toys. Here’s what would interest me more, if you want to take note:
1. Wrapping paper. Just the paper, not wrapped around a gift. Seriously, the paper’s enough. The many colors it comes in + how I can rip it=AMAZING!
2. Two dog bowls full of food and water. Every time I start making a bee line over to the ones in our kitchen, they’re yanked up so fast, I’m lucky if a drop comes splashing down! Whhhhyyyyyyy am I not allowed to entertain myself with those amazing objects!?
3. My sister’s toys that she never allows me to play with, specifically her My Little Ponies and the Little People Bus. For real, what I’d give to push that yellow bus a few times! I’m constantly hearing Mom use the word “share” with her, but I don’t have a clue what that means. All I know is that it usually results in my sister giving an exaggerated huff while tossing me the toy of interest. My favorite time of the day is when she’s taking a nap and there’s an hour before I have to take mine. A whole hour of uninterrupted bliss with those forbidden play things!
4. A vase like the one that sat in the foyer a while back. It was so colorful. So smooth. It was impossible to resist touching with my tiny fingers! I’m still confused why it disappeared that one day I made it fall over, with small pieces flying from it in all directions. I need a damn manual to figure out my parents’ expressions. When the vase fell, it made a really neat noise. Mom’s face, and the way she grabbed it, taking it out of the room, however, told me she didn’t agree…
5. Toilet paper. That stuff is a gift that just keeps on giving! To my fellow peeps in diapers out there–amiright??
6. Books. No, not those board books that Mom’s constantly pushing in my direction. I want those books that I’m always trying to pull off the lower shelf in the office. They’re more interesting than my baby books. You can open them up, pull, and make a great shredding sound!
That seems like a great list to me! Honestly, can you even compare the greatness of toilet paper to some toy dog who says your name and sings? I can’t.
So, to you moms and dads out there planning a first birthday party and losing sleep over it, stop. Your kid won’t even remember it. You can still make it special without hiring Cirque du Soleil to perform. Take a pic of some cake all over your angel’s face to throw in the baby book, throw him or her some TP to play with, and call it a day.
You’re welcome.
XOXO,
An almost one-year-old who knows what the hell she’s talking about.
This post was originally published on Sweet n’ Sour Mom.
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About Emily Spence
Once a middle school teacher, Emily is now a SAHM, spending her days wearing yoga pants, diffusing meltdowns, and changing diapers. Her two little girls, supportive, yet sometimes frustrating husband, and obnoxious Westie, help keep the insanity in her life, which is balanced with lots of wine. You can read more at Sweet n’ Sour Mom, and also find her on Facebook and Twitter.