Between fights, I was working like mad to get ready for her party. Sam and I were fighting all day too--though already I cannot remember what we fought about. What I do remember is that I didn’t want to be near either one of them. I wanted to be alone, doing something for myself. But with ten of Quinn’s little friends due to arrive the next morning at 10am, along with their parents (with whom I hope to remain friends), I had a lot to do.
It was a bit like her first birthday all over again, but this time I recognized the signs: constant list making, strategizing, ordering and reordering tasks in my mind, frantic shopping for supplies...anxiety. I tried, in advance, to warn Sam; I told him I had high expectations and that it was a sentimental event for me, in hopes that he would just put on a big smile and start anticipating my needs. When instead he wanted to argue with me, or roll his eyes at a request, I went from sane to incensed in record time. I wanted our guests, little ones and big ones, to be well taken care of. I wanted the little ones to have fun and think Quinn’s party was a good one, and I wanted the adults to not be miserable. But throwing a birthday party for a four year old, it turns out, is really like throwing two different parties at the same time, in the same place. I made cheddar, bacon and sweet corn scones, as well as star-shaped peanut butter sandwiches. I made coffee and Bloody Mary’s, and kept a cold pitcher of water near the paper cups. I put wiffle balls and soccer balls and a crawl-through tunnel out on the lawn, and set up enough chairs on the deck for people to sit if they wanted to. I made cupcakes and cake. I made fruit salad, and I prayed and prayed for sun.
Until this year, Quinn’s birthday parties have always really been our parties...we’ve invited our friends over on her birthday, and we’ve all had a good time. But in this past year, Quinn has attended a bunch of other kids’ parties. She’s picked out and wrapped presents and shown up at bouncy houses, movie theaters and gymnastics gyms. She’s seen some real excitement (or chaos, depending on your point of view), and I feared she had high expectations of her own.
I had a lot of criteria to consider as I planned. I wanted her party to be fun, but not chaotic. Most of all, I wanted her to be a gracious host, but I didn’t even know if that would be possible. I wasn’t comfortable having people bring gifts, but I was too afraid of her feeling gypped and freaking out, to tell guests to come without presents. I rationalized that it would be worse to have the embarrassment of her wondering why there were no presents, than the embarrassment of having people feel obligated to come with a gift. So, to make myself feel better about the fact that Quinn’s friends would, because I didn’t tell them not to, show up with presents, I bought bags and bags of party favors to send home with them.
I also worried about whether or not the party would be “cool” enough, so I got online and reserved a bouncy house rental for $250. But then, a day or so later, I started to come to my senses. I cancelled the bouncy house and I put the money toward swing set parts. We still have her baby swing hung up by the road. One day when I couldn’t find Quinn in the yard, I called her name. “I’m up here, Mom,” she replied, happily swinging in the baby swing which she had somehow climbed into and buckled up herself. A swing set, I imagined, would be fun for her on party day, and for months and years to come afterward--a better use of the money for sure. Sam and I got her swing set built two days before her party, and we threw a big tarp over it in the yard. It was huge and obvious, but when she asked what it was, Sam just told her it was a new tractor shed and she didn’t give it another thought. She’s used to seeing tarp-covered things in our yard, so this wasn’t a curiosity.
For days leading up to the party, we tried to prep Quinn for what to expect and how, hopefully, to behave. It was my greatest source of anxiety. In the weeks prior to her birthday, I drilled her on her manners. She had developed the habit of complaining about her meals, and I imagined that transferring directly to her party. I could picture someone handing her a present and her starting to cry, “But I don’t like that!” or “I didn’t want that! I wanted something else…” Every night at dinner, as I put her plate in front of her, I started asking, “What’s the first word out of your mouth when someone hands you something?” If I saw her starting to construct an argument, I would cut her off. “First word?!?!?” I would press, until I heard “thank you.”
On the day of the party we were graced with perfect weather: the sky was cloudless blue. Quinn’s energy was off the charts. While she often refuses to take baths, on this day when we were scrambling to get ready, she decided she had to have a bath--a long and luxurious one at that. Eventually she was dressed, and we unveiled the swing set, again as part of a strategy to help avoid any embarrassing meltdowns. I was afraid she wouldn’t share the swings if she hadn’t had a chance to use them first herself. By ten o’clock, right on time, her friends started to arrive. We welcomed people in and right away the kids started to run around the yard and play. Quinn was beside herself--so happy to have all her friends at her house, so happy it was her birthday.
We let them run around for a while, encouraged them to eat fruit and star sandwiches, we refreshed coffee cups and eventually made Bloody Marys, and when there was a tiny lull in the action, we sang happy birthday and ate cupcakes. Once the cupcakes were done, Quinn organized everyone for a scavenger hunt. First Desmond, then Oliver came to ask me if they could be on Quinn’s team, so they joined her and all the girls. Robby wanted to be with Mason, “because,” he said, “he’s nice and I like him.” Seve wanted to be with Sam and the big boys. Quinn handed out bags to all the kids and then, when the teams were all gathered around, Sam and I gave them their first clues, sending them in opposite directions around the yard to retrieve their treasures: M&Ms, toy cars and necklaces up by the swing, star-shaped sunglasses out by the wood shed, paddle-balls down by the tractor, and jump ropes in the red wheelbarrow.
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With all their loot collected, it was present opening time...the time I had been dreading for days. I brought a blanket out to lay on the grass in the shade, and we brought the pile of beautifully wrapped presents out too. I took one last opportunity to pull Quinn aside, “what’s the first word out of your mouth?” It was more a command than a question. Whether it was that reminder or Quinn’s own good heart, I will never know, but what I do know is that as we proceeded through the presents, I felt more and more at ease. I had seen the present part of others’ parties get totally out of hand, so I was determined to control the pace. And with that control, all the kids seemed to relax. One at a time someone would hand her a present, or I would pick one up for her and tell her who it was from and, before she tore any paper, she found that friend’s face among the many faces and said thank you...and then she opened things up and marveled quietly over her gifts. And her friends explained what they picked for her, or just stood back and watched. With each additional thank you delivered, I grew more and more proud. And I started to feel bad for underestimating her.
As soon as the presents were all opened, it was like the whole party spell was broken at once. The clock struck noon and ten little people started to look exhausted all at once, so they packed up and we handed out balloons and we waved and yelled goodbye and suddenly everyone was gone. Quinn was asleep in her bed moments later.
In the afternoon, Corey and Kellam came, as they have every year, only this year Fielding came too. And Char surprised us all, dropping in just in time for another round of cake. The party kept going all day. And at the end of the day, when I laid on Quinn’s bed with her and asked what her favorite part of her birthday was, she said, “all of it,” and I think that was the truth. She also said she loved having all her friends here to play on her swings with her, and she loved “the scabenger hunt.”
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| Thanks for the birthday photo Corey Hendrickson |
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| Thanks for the birthday photo Corey Hendrickson |
As we relived the joys of the day, Quinn’s thoughts somehow went back to our bad day, the day before. “Do you know why I wasn’t behaving yesterday, Mom?” she asked. “Because all you did was work, work, work. We didn’t do any playing.” She was right, for the most part, and I had to think for a moment about how to respond. I told her “Sometimes before you have a big play day, you have to have a big work day.” She thought for a moment too, and then said, “Oh!” with a sort of genuine surprise, “I didn’t know about that.” It was funny to hear her say, as that was how I was feeling about things too. I didn’t know about her bad behavior being connected to my working too much. And I didn’t know about trusting her to do the right thing with the presents and the thank yous. I thought it was my job to train her, but learned it is also my job to have faith in her. I couldn't have been more proud...the whole day was fun, but her demonstration of genuine gratitude was the biggest, shiniest gift of the day.
Each year on her birthday, I think back to her actual birth day. And I think back to those quiet hours in the middle of the night when Sam was asleep in the bed next to mine, and I was awake holding Quinn, looking into her eyes thanking her over and over again. At the time I was thanking her for making her journey into the world safely, for arriving in tact and okay. What I didn’t know was how much she would be helping me to grow in the years ahead and how grateful I would be to have her in my life.
Happy Birthday Quinn.
I love you.
