Ben woke up around 6:00 (because that's apparently his new M.O.--or at least it was for a couple of weeks). This made me nervous because it would mean that he would start to get tired and crabby right in time for his party to start. Oh well--what are you going to do? We watched Cars, had oatmeal (his favorite), and opened a few presents at home. He tore into them with alacrity and played with vigor and abandon for the rest of the morning.
When I had to leave with my mom, though, to set up at the park, well...I may has well have been abandoning him forever with all the drama (I wasn't). Sadly, all the gazebos were reserved, so we didn't get the tables and the covers. But we did find a picnic table in a shady spot in the middle of three trees. It was perfect. While in the sun it was a balmy 92 degrees, where we were you needed a sweatshirt. It was the first time I'd stopped sweating in a week. Glory Hallelujah. Anyway, as usual, most of my decorative plans Failed with a capital F. I have this friend who puts every other party on the planet to shame. She doesn't know this, but she inspires me to be one of those crafty and artistically creative moms, which is a huge bummer because, as we all know, I don't craft. I'm actually not allowed at this point. And yet, like a dog that returns to its own vomit, I continue to try. Well no more, folks. This was the last birthday party until we hit some kind of major milestone, like 16. Then I'll just hire Justin Bieber and call MTV.
In my head, you should know it was beautiful. Simple, but awe-inspiring. The tables had tablecloths held down by dump trucks with drinks, silverware, paintbrushes, etc. A train set ran the length of the table. Paints in old baby food jars, a few balloons on the trees, bubbles...seriously, Martha Stewart could have put it on the cover of her magazine. Or maybe even Oprah.
None of it happened. The table clothes could not be held down by the dump trucks, partly because our perfect shady spot was perfect because it had a hefty breeze and the wheels (duh) just made the trucks roll away. Also, we only had the one table, and my dad didn't come until the party started with the fold-up (which we couldn't get a tablecloth on anyway). A splenda box full of old baby food jars held down the table cloth on the "craft" table on one side while a dump truck filled with goody bags (not the plan, but whatever--kind of better than the original plan?) held down the other. The paint (which was purchased by a friend for me at the last minute, along with candles, which I also forgot) stayed in its containers in the center of the table (too bad my brother the photographer didn't come before the kids attacked those--it was kind of cute). I left the train set at home because Ben was playing with it; he was throwing a conniption already, and I didn't want to make it worse. Since we only had one table, it became multipurpose, so my Martha Stuart cover article was out the window. The food was all piled in boxes and reusable grocery bags on the ground by a tree (including the warm drinks, because we didn't have ice yet), the presents were at first placed on a blanket on the ground, but when the kids got there the babies tried to get into them, so they ended up on the bench of the craft table, which hid the craft (which was the ONE "activity" I planned--I don't do organized fun), which I thought was awesome--painting wooden trains. An activity AND a party favor. Genius.
Matt eventually came with a very cranky Ben and some ice for the ice chest. Ben was frustrated that I was trying to set up when he clearly needed a cuddle. My mom was able to distract him for a brief time by the AWESOME new bike she and my grandma had gotten him. The distraction didn't last long on account of his crabbiness and the fact that the bike was just a smidge to big and, consequently, a smidge too difficult to ride. But I was able to get a few things done during those few beautiful minutes, and I stole a few moments of enjoying the moment with my little man before I returned to setting up.
My dad eventually came with an extra table and the barbecue, and my step-dad eventually came with an extra table. Right when all the guests started coming. So we hastily erected the tables and I tried to hold a brand new 2-year-old who refused to leave my arms or stop whining, greet guests, invite them to paint on the one bench behind the presents or play on the playground, keep the presents from the one-year-olds, help set up the new tables and the food, visit with my grandparents who came a long way and whom I rarely see, keep the cars from rolling off the tables, and try to keep track of my camera and phone so I could take pictures of the visual disaster and help people find the obscure park in the corner.
What's funny is that I was not at all stressed about this party. I started planning it months ago, partly because I was excited, partly to make up for the very last-minute 1st birthday party last year. At first it was a lot more detailed and organized and elaborate. In my head. The closer we got to the actual party, it got simpler, and I was good with that. Instead of train ticket invitations from Etsy, we sent an evite. Instead of play-doh, coloring, bubbles, and painting, just painting. And all along I was calm. At the end of the day, I knew that the important parts we were make sure Ben had fun and to enjoy the company of our friends and family. I'm not crazy--I know a second birthday party is not entirely for the birthday boy. He will never remember. But I'm big on birthdays and celebrating people. I'm also a big fan of getting together with friends and family for a nice barbecue. So we had a big party for those reasons. And when my plans started to unravel, I was okay. Because the important parts were kept intact. And then my child started to unravel. That's when I felt the challenge. He wasn't having fun (not because he was overwhelmed by the party, as a few people noted. I know my kid--it was from waking up before God and from being two). While I wasn't that married to my decor, I was, admittedly, a little sad. I know that no one but me noticed or cared, but I did. And it's not that I feel like I disappointed my son or my guests or whatever--I just really wanted to make a pretty party, probably for me.
Eventually we found an out-of-the-way spot on a blanket on the ground for the presents, and eventually kids started painting trains. They had a great time on the playground. We barbecued, it was delicious. We'd brought plenty of blankets knowing there was a chance we wouldn't get the gazebo, so everyone had a place to sit. The kids had fun playing, the adults had fun catching up with one another and meeting new people. Ben eventually de-clawed and played when his friends got there. I waited to frost the cupcakes because last year my cupcake display was gross and melty by the time people got there. As a result the cupcakes were not at all melty, but they sat in a brown cardboard box for most of the party, and my mom, brother, friend, and I frosted them hastily with plastic knives instead of the pretty decorating set I bought, while everyone watched and waited, then they all picked their ugly cupcakes out of the ugly box. But, obviously, probably no one cared but me. And while I frosted, Ben ate. I spent maybe 5 minutes with him the entire party. I didn't take one picture (fortunately I had foreseen that possibility and asked my photographer brother to take pics). Sadly, I gave my brother no instructions. While he took A-MA-ZING pictures, he didn't shoot everyone there, which I was bummed about later when I saw the photos.
So...to sum up...most of my plans went out the window...BUT...in all the busyness, it was wonderful to spend time with my friends and family. The kids had a great time playing, painting, and eating. We celebrated Ben, who did, for the most part, have fun playing with his friends, painting, eating, and opening gifts. It was a really nice little afternoon.
After everyone left and we cleaned and packed up, Ben wailed because he didn't want to part with his new cars, and he wanted to eat all the leftover cupcakes. He was a terror to put down for a nap, and he only slept for an hour. He woke up wailing some more. He was grumpy for the later afternoon. We then took him to the mall (one of his favorite places) for some Wahoo's (rice and beans--more favorites) and playtime in the free AC. We ran into some friends, so he got to play with three of his favorite girls in Pottery Barn. Then we went home, cuddled up with his new pals and his new books, and ended the birthday. Which was for the best--because truth be told, Ben clearly did not know that he was supposed to be happy that day. All he knew was that he was tired and hot and grumpy, and that he never wanted to part with his new belongings ever.
A huge THANK YOU to my mom for helping with everything, to my brother for taking beautiful photographs and making my ugly party look pretty, to my dad for being grill-master and bringing a table, to my step-dad for bringing a table, to my grandparents for making the trip, to Matthew for being the best husband and daddy ever, to those who came, who partied, who played, and generously gave. And to those who couldn't make it, we missed you. And to sweet Ben, happy day, little man.
And to myself, just let it go, mama. Let it go.
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