I know, I’m horrible.

But let me plead my case…

I hate kid birthday’s for so many reasons (my own is even one that I abhor but that is a whole other post):

  1. I hate other kids parties that are like an hour away in solitary industrial parks that you have to wait around for 2 hours at a Starbucks while your own kid goes bananas resulting in this exclamation: OH WOW A TRAMPOLINE PARTY, I WANT MY BIRTHDAY HERE! PLEASE MOM! But then I realize it costs like 350 bucks for 10 kids to jump for an hour plus cakes and gifts and this little party turns into half a grand. Gross.
  2. I also hate the fact that both my kids have birthdays 3 weeks apart. I mean, normally I like party planning but this is a bit of the muchness. I can’t even enjoy the food because I’m saddled down with cake from Wrens soiree, then Halloween hits and I’m like ingesting 7000 candy bars, and then Finn’s cake #2 and I’m like there is no way to stay on target for calories now because Christmas is right around the corner, so basically I eat crap for 3 months and gain 15 pounds.
  3. I hate the guilt. I would love to throw my kids a party at home, but I literally can’t. My house is small, like teeny. Like 1100 square feet wee with no big basement or living space that kids can run amok in. I’d throw them outside but both birth dates are end of October and beginning of November so like, outdoor fun is never to be counted upon. So my house is shit.
  4. Oh and let’s not discuss fucking Pinterest in which we see photos of amazing cakes and parties that look professionally catered and decorated. It’s like hello mom, you suck if you can’t get your cake to look like mine, I mean, it was SO EASY. Easy my ass. I attempted Pinterest cakes in the past. Shall I share the lego cake disaster of 2017 once more?

All of this leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. I hate that even as I write this, I still feel massive guilt over never having a large party for my kids. They don’t particularly seem to mind but perhaps in 20 years their therapist will be tsking her judgement over my neglect.

So as we approach the first one of 2018, Wrens 7th, I have been told by my husband this morning that KIDS LOVE PARTIES WITH LOTS OF MAYHEM AND GIFTS AND I NEED TO SUCK IT UP. Ok fine, I get it. But at what price? Upon researching a few things, I realize my bill begins at 225 bucks as stated previously which means I’ll be forking out about 500 bucks per kid assuming these venues aren’t booked yet, which let’s be honest, I’m late as it is. Parents are so on the ball these days it leaves me to wonder what kind of social life they lead themselves to have booked a kids party months in advance.

I barely know what I’m doing next weekend.

I also want to add that while I conceded to this big party for little Wren, she can only come up with one name of one girl in her class that she wants to invite. Exclusive much Wren? Finn came up with a few more, but really, they seem to want only the few kids I’ve invited in the past which leads me to think maybe I should just have an afternoon gathering in my kitchen where the wine is at least plentiful. I’ve suggested combining the two parties at one venue but the looks of disgust were enough to leave that idea to die.

My brilliant (or so I thought) suggestion was to ditch the birthdays and take the kids to the city for a weekend getaway. Get a hotel with a pool, eat at a nice place of their choice, head over to the aquarium and maybe the ROM but it has been kiboshed. Jerks.

Oh and also, I have to deal with my husband who seems to know what a 7 year old girl would like to do. I know my daughter, she likes art and music and princesses, much to his chagrin. I suggested an art venue in which the kids make unicorn crafts but nope, husband is like BORING. They need to play dodgeball and run around screaming and tackling each other. What is wrong with a nice quiet creative venue in which they kids make pretty collages? As a kid, I would be so into that and so would my daughter. But, again, I digress.

I fecking hate birthdays.

So as I leave this post, I’m still annoyed, but feel marginally better for professing my ire about these ‘over the top’, expensive as shit afternoons that make Christmas look fun after it’s all said and done. And those who know me, understand how loaded that statement is.

I hate Christmas too.

Kelly the Grinch, out.