You Only Turn 1 once ...
"That’s all the ice you bought?" asked my wife, Theresa. "We have 60 cans of soda back there!"
Of course, she was right — in the middle of the kitchen, patiently awaiting a deposit of cubes, was a tub the size of the one Jed Clampett used to bathe in. And there I was holding about enough ice to make one strong martini.
I guess my problem was that I refused to admit to myself, while standing in front of the freezer at Crosby’s market, that a 1-year-old’s birthday party could necessitate more than 10 pounds of ice. Several of the guests barely weighed 10 pounds themselves — how much ice could they possibly need?
But the truth of the matter was, whether I wanted to admit it or not, this was no simple cake-and-Hoodsies birthday gathering. Somehow, it had turned into a full-fledged fete, complete with 12 pizzas, a table-full of desserts, cold beer and 30 invited guests ranging in age from 8 weeks to 80 years. It was practically a cotillion.
How it came to that point I’m not sure. Just over a year ago Theresa and I were marveling at the party her sister was throwing for her then-3-year-old son, complete with fancy matching "Hot Wheels" plates, cups, hats and goody bags. "What’s wrong with white plates?" I asked.
Her sister just laughed that way a parent laughs when asked a silly question by someone who is not a parent — the type of question that indicates the non-parent is in for a rude awakening when he or she finally becomes one.
Now that I am a parent, I know that laugh all too well, and being able to administer it to non-parents is sometimes the only thing that gives me the energy to keep standing.
Anyway, as the months passed leading up to Jackie’s big day, little barriers fell one by one. First we broke down and got the Tigger cups and plates, then decided what the heck, we’ll get the matching decorations, then realized the need for Pooh-themed goody bags … And then, one day, you find yourself in the bakery department at DeMoulas with a specific picture of all the Winnie-the-Pooh characters, which you want precisely recreated in colored icing on a cake the size of Bolivia.
So what if it’s an extra $5 per figure — the cake must have a Piglet!
Needless to say, by the time the day arrived, we had all the ingredients a good first birthday party should have. But as we all know, 60 cans of soda and $27 worth of Tigger balloons do not a party make. At least not according to Parent’s magazine, which conveniently included an article about planning a 1-year-old’s birthday party in its last edition.
Of course, as soon as I saw this I immediately began reading to find out if there were any arcane party accessories we’d somehow neglected to purchase. It looked like we were OK in that regard, but apparently we hadn’t put nearly enough thought into what would actually happen at the party — we’d naively assumed that pizza, cake and presents should just about do it.
There’s that laugh again.
According to the Parent’s article, you have to start by clearing the party room of all breakable, sharp and otherwise dangerous objects. (So that game of "pin the shards of glass on the donkey" is out.) Then, it recommends the following:
1) "Until the guests have arrived, keep little ones occupied by letting them play with a few large balls." That sounds easy enough. I went out and bought balls.
2) "Shake out those sillies! Put on some hip-hop music and dance." Um … Can’t I just add some more balls?
3) "Read a story with several characters or animals. Change your voice as you read different parts. If you want, use hand puppets to act it out." Hand puppets? I just spent all that money on balls. Also, how would they hear the story over the hip-hop music?
In the end, the kids did just fine in keeping themselves occupied, and the adults were more than satisfied with the pizza and beer. And through it all, Jackie remained unfazed — sure, she was happy, but no happier than when she’s alone with us in the living room talking to the TV remote and climbing on the dog.
But looking at her in her party dress surrounded by little friends trying to help tear open her presents, I was glad we broke the bank on her first birthday bash. I can’t think of anything that would better justify the cost of funky balloons and a fancy cake than having a happy, healthy little girl.
It’s enough to make a guy want to spring for a third bag of ice.