Let’s get this straight: I endure the monumental task of bringing an 8-pound bowling ball into the world, and who gets to bask in the glory every year? The bowling ball?! In a mere two months, my little munchkin is turning four (please, let four be a breeze compared to three), which means it’s time to dive into the chaos of birthday party planning. Ugh, is there anything more excruciating? Maybe waterboarding? Nah, it might just be a tie.
- The Expenses. I’d love to host the celebration in our backyard to save a small fortune, but A. It’s guaranteed to rain cats and dogs that day, and B. My child is dead set on one of those inflatable play places. Seriously?! I once witnessed a kid at a bouncy house hurl all over the place, and no one noticed until it was too late. Let’s just say I scrubbed my kid down like a surgeon until her skin was practically gone. Now, I have a serious aversion to bouncy houses.
- The Party Favors. So, I entertain and feed your little monster for two hours, and now I’m expected to send him home with a gift? Some call them goody bags; I call them cheap plastic junk from overseas that could potentially cause harm. Why are we spending money on items that could choke our children? Genius idea.
- The Guest List. How many kids are we inviting to this soiree? Are we planning a wedding? She’s four! Apparently, there’s a new mandate that we must invite every kid in her class to avoid hurt feelings. Seriously? They’re four! They’re not discussing their weekend plans. All they say is “doodie” and “poo.” What happened to the good old days when only certain kids got invited? Now, it’s like everyone gets a trophy just for showing up.
- The RSVP Dilemma. Please, for the love of all that is holy, respond! I know it technically means “please,” but it’s more of a “just do it.” I’m busy too—counting slices of pizza to ensure I don’t starve your child. So, if you don’t respond and your kid shows up, guess what? No food for them. I’ll send them home a hungry wreck.
- Cake. Can I complain about birthday cake? Not a chance. Cake is my best friend, and I’m not saying anything bad about it. I love you, birthday cake.
- And then there’s Pinterest. Pinterest is the bane of my existence. I recently attended a party at my ex-friend’s house where everything was Pinterest-perfect. Meanwhile, I just threw some chips in a bowl and forgot forks, resulting in kids eating cake with their hands. Thanks, Penelope, for making me look like a horrible mom.
- Balloons. Kids treat balloons like they’re treasures from a fairy tale, but they’re seriously annoying. Your kid will let go of their balloon a thousand times and cry every time. Plus, if we’re outside, expect tears when they lose it to the sky. And let’s not even get started on the potential for balloon mishaps—biting into one can lead to a trip to the ER!
- Lunch. Figuring out how much pizza to order is a math problem I don’t have time for. Just give me the largest package available, and we’ll deal with leftovers—or not, since our car will be full of gifts. Honestly, I’d rather not have pizza lingering in my trunk for a week.
- Gifts. I’ve heard of moms creating registries for their kids’ parties. Ugh, no thanks. Instead, here’s my registry: 1. 2. 3. Yep, it’s blank. We don’t need any more stuff cluttering our house. If anything, I’d prefer everyone to bring empty gift bags because that’s the only benefit of a party—free wrapping for the rest of the year.
- Thank You Notes. I’m all for thank-you notes, but only when my child can write. Guess who ends up writing them? Yours truly. So, if you give my child a toy, expect a thank-you note packed with glitter and confetti. It’s raining sequins, folks!
So, if you don’t receive an invitation to my kid’s birthday bash, consider yourself lucky. It means I like you enough not to subject you to this madness. If you do get one, my sincerest apologies.