First Birthday Party

I have never before put so much effort into planning a party for someone who would much rather be sucking on the remote control.

There's an unbelievable amount of build up and pressure surrounding the First Birthday Party. The time must be carefully chosen so as not to fall too close to nap time or bed time, decorations must be fun, but not chokable, the birthday boy must look totally adorable, and over night, a mom must become a master cake maker.

After viewing album upon album of one-year-old parties on KodakGallery, the heat was on. Little Elijah had an adorable train cake with a train made out of cupcakes, Little Gracie had marching chocolate turtle cupcakes, and Little Evelyn had a Barbie Doll with a ball gown made of cake and icing--all courtesy of their mothers. Clearly, the first birthday party is an important coming-of-age event where baby crosses the threshold out of babyhood and Mommy officially becomes Sara Lee.

So I did some research. After two trips to Michaels, sifting through catalogs, cake pans, and frosting tools, I finally let myself be the mom who does not decorate cakes. Thank you to my brother-in-law, Mike, who had a cake made for me, which was delicious and beautiful and saved me from the angst of trying to build a seahorse out of cake batter.

Thank God no one choked on decorations, although almost all of the party favor toys I gave out told me in small print that they are choking hazards. The toy maracas have tiny balls inside which a child could choke on and somehow the toy harmonicas and plastic dinosaurs are also dangerous to children under 3. It's a good thing I had the foresight to take out the tiny bags of glass and the whisky flasks before the party.

And then there was the birthday boy. General consensus agrees that Finny is just about as cute as they come. It's a good thing he doesn't understand much yet, because if he understood all the compliments he gets, his ego wouldn't fit through the door (which might actually save me a couple hundred dollars on safety gates). It just so happens though, that the night before his big day of present opening and picture snapping, I come home from the grocery store to hear the report from David that Finny got his first boo boo. While reaching for something on the end table with only one shoe on, he slipped and split his lip on the bottom rung of the table. At first I was distraught.

"Why weren't you watching him?" I asked David, conveniently forgetting all the times I'm in the kitchen and can't see him playing behind the couch.

But in the morning when I pulled him out of bed and saw his little fat, cut lip, I realized that he was okay and still cuter than ever. Besides Swayze can't be the only tough one in the family; Finn's gotta have a few tough guy scars of his own.

In the end, all went well. Present opening was total pandemonium with toddlers crying and running all over the place. Finny tried to eat the wrapping paper while Daddy wrestled him to the ground and I opened all his lovely new toys. We all watched as Finny bypassed diving into his little cake with his hands and face and preferred to be spoonfed, like the dainty gentleman he is, by Mommy and Aunt Laurie. And he was showered with kisses and love by all the lovely grandparents and aunts and uncles in his life.

Thank you to all who helped make Finny's day extra special. He won't remember a lick of it, but we will and we're grateful for it all.