birthday party fanatic confessions of a

story by | kathleen wrigley

I’m not a party-pooper.

Birthdays are important. They’re our day. Meant to single us out and make us feel special. I love my birthday, even the BIG one I celebrated this year. There it is: I’M 40 My mom surprised me and flew in from Philadelphia. Our families celebrated at the Wrigley lake cabin with a special dinner. It was perfect for me; perfectly peaceful and memorable.

While it’s unrealistic to expect a child to embrace a quiet birthday, nor should they expect the Mardi Gras we’ve turned these occasions into. Celebrating a tiny tike’s special day has changed. Even the traditional song has been overhauled. “Happy Birthday to You,” has run the gamut of “smelling like you live with monkeys,” to “cha-cha-cha-oooolala-ing” and something about missing somebody’s grandma from Alabama?

Birthday parties are meant to be just that-a party. A chance for kids to have fun running around, getting dirty and playing games, topped off with cake and ice cream. But such quaint shindigs are rare today. Even my daughter calls these get-togethers “olden day parties.”

The truth is…I’m a recovering Birthday Party Fanatic. I’ve done it. In my own pursuit to subscribe to the new norms, I’ve gone overboard.

I remember it well: a bowling-themed festival [for a 4-year-old] with screen-printed personalized shirts and hand-made bowling ball invites that slipped into a CD envelope revealing the party details through the window. An array of senseless, costly, junkie toys and candies were stuffed into drawstring pouches and given as “treat bags.” Pizza, pop, popcorn, piñata: check, check, check and check.

Thankfully, we did keep one tradition in focus, thanks to Grama Gloria. She prepares some of the most beautiful pieces of art out of flour, sugar and dye.

Even our little guy was in on the party rage. He wanted to invite everyone. His entire pre-school class attended. He told me, “I want to invite ALL my fwends…hey, mommy who aaw my fwends?” They all came, balancing generous and colorfully wrapped presents.

I puffed-out my chest [tired, but proud] and tried to disguise my droopy eyes framed with dark circles, as each pint-sized party guest slipped into my “Team-Patrick” tee. I gave an “ah shucks” and a hand wave to every mom who threw me a compliment, as if all this was an after-thought. “No biggie. Just a little something I threw together.” Ah, yes, I was very proud of “my” party.

As I struggled to fit the gifts into the back of my SUV, it hit me: This is Ridiculous! Where in the world am I going to store these toys? And, more importantly, will Patrick ever have enough time to play with them? Ugh. But…chop chop. No time to lament. There was a “family” party ready to roll out!

For as much stuff as we came home with, I felt a little empty. I was over-stimulated. How must my 4-year-old be feeling? Do these lavish events we call birthday parties add measureable value to our children’s lives?

The mental health professional in me wonders: Do we really do this stuff for our kiddos? Or, maybe we’re trying to impress the other moms? Speaking only for myself…a little of both, I suppose.

So, how have we gone from cake and ice cream at home to the extravagant events of today to celebrate a child’s birthday? We’ve created lofty social standards to define a “great” birthday party for our child. Parents are trying to follow these new guidelines, regardless of whether they proportionately reflect their resources, mental preparedness, time commitments- or sleep requirements.

Kids’ birthday parties have become their own industry. The marketing world has capitalized on our quest to make every birthday a milestone, tempting us to spend fistfuls of dollars in order to have a successful “event.” I googled kids’ birthday party ideas. The result: sixty-nine pages with approximately 11,700,000 links.

I am a traditionalist. I try to be progressive, you know, for my kids. But, for Pete’s sake, there’s only so much a 40-year-old woman can take! There are reasons things go in and out and back in style [like the bell-bottom dungarees to high-pocketed “mom” denims back to the flare-legged jean. They’re more flattering].

Many families are frustrated and ready to get back to those “olden day parties.” So, could the tide be turning? It is for us.

Unfortunately for the Wrigley children, their mom is finding her way back to her traditionalist roots. OK, so it took three brain surgeries to embrace this “olden-day” base.

The revised plan: Have a party. Celebrate life. Whoop it up. Invite all our “Fwends.” But, keep it simple. Gifts are excessive for friend parties. So, we save gift-exchanging for family.

Hearing the conversations among parents is the first step. But, the evidence is there. More and more parents are pulling the plug on these over-done kid parties, and going back to the basics.

This summer, my daughter was invited to a classmate’s birthday party. The invite was specific: “NO GIFTS! Please bring an item for the food pantry.” Immediately, Quinn grabbed a gift bag [birthday-girl specific], and collected nonperishables.

Samantha, way to go, sweetheart! Thank you for giving back. You’re a super star and a shining example to your friends-and their parents!

Instead of cramming our closets, let’s teach our kids how to party like it’s…2010. Let’s cram their little hearts with joy and use our creative juices to generate more tangible, lasting memories.

Come on, give it a whirl. It’s super swanky and actually quite progressive, if I do say so myself.

Kathleen is a stay-at-home mom who serves on a number of community boards/committees, is active in her church, kids’ school, and politics and runs to sustain her own mental health! This Philadelphia native is married to a fourth generation North Dakotan, Drew, and proudly considers North Dakota her home. They have three children. Before becoming a mom, she was director for Bismarck’s Child Advocacy Center and was a speech writer. Kathleen received a BS from The Pennsylvania State University and completed her graduate studies at Temple University, in Philadelphia.