Rain turns 2 on the 27th. We celebrated her birthday today. The lessons I have learned from hosting 2 toddler birthday parties:
1. No matter how many times you tell yourself, "The child has only a vague idea of what's going on. Let's not make this a big to-do," the larger the party gets.
2. As soon as you invite ONE person to a toddler's birthday party, it is officially an affair. Invitations, decorations, party games, and stress soon follow.
3. Every child believes himself to be the Big Cheese. Kids don't have the patience or desire to clap for another kid's joyful gift opening. At some point, he's gonna want to know, "Where the heck is MY gift??"
4. By the end of the party (usually only 1/3 of the way through), something you care for will be broken, torn, stained, or left bleeding. Guard your pets.
5. Just buy the cake. Oh, you have a great idea for a cute poodle marshmallow cake with gumdrop eyes that you think you an whip up the night before? Just buy the cake. Oh! Your mother offered to help you make the poodle cake? Great--buy the cake. Sorry, I didn't realize you used to bake for a local cafe, because if I had known that, I would've told you to let it go and just buy the cake.
Rain had a fab piratey birthday, don't get me wrong. We watched a pirate-themed Backyardigans cartoon about 5 times while she ate hotdogs and chips. She said, "Arr!" a lot, and at one point, was rolling around in a mud hole she made in our yard.
The worst thing about Rain's party, honestly, was me. I had decided to break rule #5 above, and I paid a dear price. I had read some far-fetched, fantastical parenting magazine (I should have been on guard at that point) that explained how easy it would be for me to make a pirate ship birhday cake. Violent seaman ravaging port cities and defenseless civilian watercraft? I'm all over it!
So, last night I buy all my ingredients. The recipe called for 2 tubs of frosting. I'm thinking that they had some intern in the cooking department put frosting on the cake with a toothpick, 'cause I used up 2 tubs of frosting quick-like and was whimpering, "My poop deck is still bare!!"
I started baking at 11 PM. At 4 AM, I had the following:
- Boat-like cake shape
- Sunken bow
- Headache
I had not started decorating, because the front of the ship was too low. Right about then I was wondering why I hadn't just bought a silly cake. Tim goes to the grocery store and returns with more jars of frosting and a package of Oreos (to soothe me). I would not take his trinkets, because I was busy attending my own pity party.
Tim went to take a shower. All seemed lost. There I was stuck with several chocolate-covered spatulas, a busted cake, and the knowledge that Rain would wake up at 7 AM.
Then, in a moment that can only happen in one's desolate kitchen at 4:30 AM, I heard the chords to an 80s love song that I can't remember the words to (something about an eagle and a mountain top, I dunno), and I had my epiphany: Love lifts us up where we belong, and so do cookies.
2. As soon as you invite ONE person to a toddler's birthday party, it is officially an affair. Invitations, decorations, party games, and stress soon follow.
3. Every child believes himself to be the Big Cheese. Kids don't have the patience or desire to clap for another kid's joyful gift opening. At some point, he's gonna want to know, "Where the heck is MY gift??"
4. By the end of the party (usually only 1/3 of the way through), something you care for will be broken, torn, stained, or left bleeding. Guard your pets.
5. Just buy the cake. Oh, you have a great idea for a cute poodle marshmallow cake with gumdrop eyes that you think you an whip up the night before? Just buy the cake. Oh! Your mother offered to help you make the poodle cake? Great--buy the cake. Sorry, I didn't realize you used to bake for a local cafe, because if I had known that, I would've told you to let it go and just buy the cake.
Rain had a fab piratey birthday, don't get me wrong. We watched a pirate-themed Backyardigans cartoon about 5 times while she ate hotdogs and chips. She said, "Arr!" a lot, and at one point, was rolling around in a mud hole she made in our yard.
The worst thing about Rain's party, honestly, was me. I had decided to break rule #5 above, and I paid a dear price. I had read some far-fetched, fantastical parenting magazine (I should have been on guard at that point) that explained how easy it would be for me to make a pirate ship birhday cake. Violent seaman ravaging port cities and defenseless civilian watercraft? I'm all over it!
So, last night I buy all my ingredients. The recipe called for 2 tubs of frosting. I'm thinking that they had some intern in the cooking department put frosting on the cake with a toothpick, 'cause I used up 2 tubs of frosting quick-like and was whimpering, "My poop deck is still bare!!"
I started baking at 11 PM. At 4 AM, I had the following:
- Boat-like cake shape
- Sunken bow
- Headache
I had not started decorating, because the front of the ship was too low. Right about then I was wondering why I hadn't just bought a silly cake. Tim goes to the grocery store and returns with more jars of frosting and a package of Oreos (to soothe me). I would not take his trinkets, because I was busy attending my own pity party.
Tim went to take a shower. All seemed lost. There I was stuck with several chocolate-covered spatulas, a busted cake, and the knowledge that Rain would wake up at 7 AM.
Then, in a moment that can only happen in one's desolate kitchen at 4:30 AM, I heard the chords to an 80s love song that I can't remember the words to (something about an eagle and a mountain top, I dunno), and I had my epiphany: Love lifts us up where we belong, and so do cookies.
So, to the person who ate a piece of cake today that had a stack of mystery Oreos under it: be comforted that I will now abide by rule #5.
