Sugarbaby turns one on Saturday. One. A whole year old. We are throwing her a party.
I hate throwing parties. I basically overdid it, OD'd on parties with the first three. They had shindigs every year, themed galas with magnificent cakes and entertainment. Marionette puppet shows, costume parties, I was that mom. Mind you, astronaut and squirrel's birthdays are nine days apart, followed by Halloween 12 days later, Lettuce's birthday 20 days later, Thanksgiving up to a week later, my birthday 2-3 weeks later, princess' birthday 3 DAYS later, Christmas a week after that and then New Year's.
Exactly. 10 hellish weeks.
Then, I realized that I was creating my own misery by falling into the birthday party pressure. I realized I was spending a lot of money for something the kids wouldn't even remember. I realized that I myself am only certain of 2 parties-my first and a sleepover when I was 11 or 12.
Yet I continued to get older.
So I stopped. Cold turkey. My friends were shocked.
That is not to say we don't celebrate birthdays. We do, with cake and presents and a family dinner. Birthday kid's choice. They love it. It's their day, their special day.
And guess what-they keep getting older.
But Sugarbaby is turning one, and a party she shall have!