Oh, the party. I have much to tell you.
Do I start at the beginning when it was awful or start at the end when it was wonderful? I suppose I should tell the story chronologically.
If you've been following along, then you're aware that the planning process has been a lot of fun. I made
invitations and a
pinata and planned a low-key celebration in our backyard. We had a ton of people to invite, even though we just moved to Austin a month ago. Everything was on track for a fun party.
But then lots of folks couldn't come. And even worse, people who said they would come (like good, good friends from Houston) started canceling at the last minute. Even worse, we had to call some folks to find out they weren't coming. In all honesty, it was pretty crushing. It's one of those examples when my expectations are just too high for the world around me.
In all fairness to others, I think it's hard for people to realize just how important a first birthday party can be. Of course Henry won't remember it once he's older, but he will see it in pictures. Plus, it's the first birthday, so it sets a precedent. It helps us figure out what kind of family we aspire to be. And for us as parents, we're celebrating, too. We're celebrating making it through a whole year of transition. We're celebrating our new, expanded life. We're celebrating our ability to do that which--at times--felt downright impossible.
So you want your good friends to be there to celebrate with you. And when they change their minds at the last-minute or don't RSVP and wait for you to call them so they can tell you they aren't coming, it hurts. But rather than wallow in that place of hurt, I simply tried to hold on to how I felt and incorporate it into how I interact with other people. I will do my best to RSVP on time and to say yes to invitations as much as I can. I will make the effort and take the time.
But all of that made it hard to get motivated. I was also juggling trying to find Henry
childcare. And I had ten meetings the week leading up to the party (as well as a migraine that included vomiting). It was a lot, and it meant that we didn't get started on the party until Saturday morning. We made our way to the grocery store as soon as it opened at 8 (well, we actually arrived at 7:30 and ate breakfast together as a family while waiting for the store to open). We got all the food we needed and headed home. I quickly realized (way too late) that three hours is not enough time to make chili, chop up onions/cheese/cilantro for a
chili bar, make guacamole, slice pineapple and strawberries, bake cookies (at least I made the dough in advance), put cookies into wax paper bags and sew a cute note to them for favors, make a salad, fill up a glass decanter with water (and sliced oranges), blow up balloons, make a birthday cake and icing from scratch, move the stereo outside and set it up, clean off the back porch, hang a pinata, vacuum the house, clean the bathrooms, and take a shower (even when they're are two of you and the baby takes a 1.5-hour nap).
So there was stress involved. Matt was mad at me for not cleaning as I cooked. I was mad at him for not realizing that we needed to triage and cleaning was not as important as everything else on the list.
But we did our best to make it work. The cookies got thrown on a plate instead of put into cute bags (no one cared, honestly). We only blew up a few balloons and decorated with Henry's toys instead. We hung the pinata during the party.
Once the party started, I did my very best to immerse myself in the experience and to just enjoy it--imperfections and all. Instead of stressing about the fact that I had to frost the cake
during the party, I simply asked my friend Claire to help me, so we were able to spend some quality time chatting in the kitchen.
In the end, it was a wonderful little party. There were nine of us total, which was a great number to feel festive without being overwhelmingly stimulating for Henry. He had a ball. He smiled and laughed the whole time (and thoroughly enjoyed licking cake off his fingers). It was fun writing a letter to him about the party over at
Feeding the Soil.
Next time I'll remind myself to plan out our time a little better in the days and hours leading up to a party. It's silly to leave everything to the last minute and be stressed. But if I don't follow my own advice next time, I hope that I can be self-forgiving again and truly immerse myself in the experience. That's where we find joy--when we turn off all the
should have and
musts and live in the
what is.
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Today on Feeding the Soil: Henry's
final letter of the year.