Diary of A Stressed-Out Birthday Mom

My daughter celebrated her third birthday this weekend, and in spite of all efforts to be the relaxed, effortless birthday mom, I’m pretty sure I lost a few marbles.

The truth is, it’s so hard to keep your cool. Birthday parties have become yet another way for moms to try and quantify their success as parents. Lavish locations, excessive gifts, and party favors that could give the My Super Sweet 16 people a run for their money. The pressure is palpable because the view is so myopic. You only have two hours to show your family and friends: (a) how well-behaved your children are, (b) how creatively and skillfully you can plan and execute an event, and even (c) how pleasant your marriage is. Honestly, I don’t remember being this strung-out at my own wedding!

So for all the moms out there who spend hours and hours of their hard-earned “me time” assembling loot bags, hand-making invitations, or decorating Barbie cakes, this is for you. Because there’s nothing funnier than a stressed-out mother’s account of her own child’s birthday party (even to the stressed-out mom herself!)

9:30 a.m.
My SUV is packed with food platters and cases of soda. My back seat is littered with to-do lists, bags of ice, and one giant Hello Kitty balloon. We’re on our way to the local arts and crafts studio to celebrate Annie’s big day. On the way, I have a fleeting fantasy that we’re coming on the wrong day, or that they’ve forgotten our party altogether. A knot laces itself in my stomach. Only when we round the corner and I see the dry-erase easel on the curb announcing “Happy Birthday Annie” do I exhale. As we walk in, a dog on a leash passes by and gives me a long look. I think he can smell my fear.

9:52 a.m.
Any effort I made in the areas of hair, make-up, or palatable body odor have been obliterated by the act of unpacking the car. I am now sweaty, dusty, and frizzy, and I definitely don’t look the part of the Perky Mom. I make tracks to the bathroom to reapply lip gloss and try to salvage myself before the first guests arrive.

10:03 a.m.
It’s showtime! The guests arrive, and their roving eyes take in the surroundings. My mind is flooded with questions. Did I pick the right place? Are the kids going to have fun? Will the party measure up to past parties we’ve hosted? Did I bring enough food? Should I have baked the birthday cake from scratch, or picked one without refined sugar? And, most importantly, am I doing a good job of hiding my anxiety about all of the above?!