Why the 1st Birthday Party REALLY Matters
What is the first birthday you remember? Truly remember. Not one that your parents have recounted to you a hundred times, enough that it's now a pseudo memory. The first one I truly remember is my eighth birthday. I had a joint party with the neighbor girl. Our birthdays were exactly one day apart. It made us basically twins. The seven birthdays prior to that hold no place in my memory. I'm sure those days were magical in their own ways.
Because of this I was adamantly against throwing a big bash for my own Little Nugget. At no point in his life would he be upset that we did not invite 35 people to eat his food and sing out-of-tune to him. My husband had a different view. Little Nugget is our first, he is our pride and joy. Our little person turns 1 year old just once. We're celebrating it.
I stressed about the planning, I worried about what he would wear, and I scoured Pinterest for the best lumberjack themed kids birthday around. We reserved a room in our favorite restaurant, ordered some platters of food, and bought a balloon. Little Nugget wore a dinosaur shirt. No joke. And it was magical. For us, the parents.
It's a Party!
I think Little Nugget had fun, I'll tell him he did. With every person that walked in, the room filled with more love. I looked around the room and knew that Little Nugget made an impression on every single one of them at some time. It blew my mind. He had been on Earth 367 days. What a stud. Suddenly those terrifying first days home from the hospital weren't so terrifying. Those two weeks when he wouldn't stop coughing were trivial. That time he bashed his face on the stair and walked around with a black eye is just a funny memory. Little Nugget is alive. We, his parents, kept him alive. Success!!! Now everyone, raise your glass and toast the kid (and his parents)!
© 2016 Molly Cullen