When I was a kid I didn't get birthday parties, really. Any family that was local would come over and sing a song around my mom's home made angel food cake covered with whipped cream and strawberries and that would be that. There were probably balloons strung up by the dining room chandelier left over from other events or freebies sent through the mail, assorted colors. My mom saved the candles. My dad would be recording with his enormous camcorder resting on his shoulder, probably tormenting my Grammy... And sitting right above my place setting would be a tiny ceramic creation of my mother's, a present and cake complete with candle and my name on it. And those were perfect, those birthdays. That's just how it was "back then," all simple and wonderful and stuff.
I try to remind myself of those simpler times when my children's birthdays loom near. We do huge parties for their first birthdays... and then slightly smaller ones afterwards. I went big for Letty's first because I was just sofreakingexcitedtohaveababy and then well, I have to be fair to my other two right? After Letty's fifth birthday party we decided, nope. No more after birthday number five. But come birthday number six I felt bad for her (shame on me, I get it). She had an awesome birthday, no doubt, spending the entire day with her family on vacation, living the dream. I still just felt bad. So when we got home from vacation we planned a special little lady date with her best friend Avery to get manicures (while the mothers got pedicures, naturally) and then Avery could sleep over that night, having movie theater popcorn and an Avatar viewing. Icing on the cake, as it were.
There's been several discussions amongst my family lately about "kids these days" and is this the worst generation yet? And we never did that when we were their age! And the like.... Lots of scary thoughts about college and partying and safety and things that I just really don't want to start worrying about just yet, but there you have it. Social media spreading around photos of things I really don't want (or need) to see and just the looming dread of....oh my... will that one day be my child?
Don't worry, I'm seeing a Buddhist about it.
So! Let's keep them young, shall we? As I take my eldest to her first manicure.... doh!
When did I get my first manicure? Ohhhhh probably high school? And only because I had a Grandma who went religiously and she liked to spoil me.
Not when I turned six, that's for sure.
I dare say she had the best (and longest) birthday celebration ever. And I certainly didn't mind the pedicure either.