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Annual Pre-Birthday Fret Fest, Activate! 

Oh, hi. It is That Time of Year when I begin to fret about Carla’s birthday party. 

Didn’t we already take care of this, you may be wondering? And yes, yes, I thought I had taken care of it way back in April.  Well. The best laid plans, etc. 

To keep you updated: The theme is still Beach, the party is still at our house. It is still ostensibly a pool party. Will we be able to use the pool or will there be thunderstorms? Who’s to say, Internet. Who’s to say. Also, there is no lifeguard because “securing a lifeguard” in April does not mean securing a lifeguard. It means that your need for a lifeguard goes into some sort of system – but not a system accessible to all the people who work at the lifeguard staffing place – and then you have to call back a month in advance of your event and then thrice a week after that to be told, every time, “Call back on [date two or seven days hence] and we should definitely know whether we have a lifeguard for your event.”

I prefer to send out invitations to an event no fewer than four weeks in advance. That deadline flew past, because I was not going to invite umpteen children to my house without a lifeguard on hand. I know my limits. Finally, two weeks before the party, I convinced Carla to cull her list down to five and sent out the invitations. These kids are all good and experienced swimmers, and my husband and I are going to watch them every second. My in-laws will be there to do things that require leaving the pool area – showing kids to the bathroom, getting waters, answering the door for the food delivery. We are not having any parents stay, in part because that’s a whole additional level of stress but also in part because the more people on hand, the less confident I am that anyone will be watching the swimmers. 

Listen. I understand, fully, that the lifeguard staffing place has a lot of factors to consider. First, summer JUST started, and it’s prime lifeguard season, and I’m sure they’ve been scrambling to find enough high school and college kids to staff all their clients’ needs. Plus, I am guessing that their primary business comes from country clubs and community centers and camps, who all need multiple lifeguards for multiple days a week, and I completely see how it would be a priority to staff those bigger clients before my tiny one-time party. 

And yet… if you cannot promise a lifeguard for an event, perhaps do not promise a lifeguard for an event?!

I pulled this meme from somewhere on the internet and I’m sorry about the typo.

The most maddening thing about the lifeguard issue is that when I finally called them, a week before the party, and told them I no longer needed a lifeguard because I couldn’t deal with the uncertainty (I left a message and I promise I was as nice as possible over the phone; it’s not the fault of the people who do the scheduling), they called me back later that day and left a message that said, “We have a lifeguard for you, in case you change your mind.” ARGH. 

Other people probably would have taken the lifeguard staffing person’s promise of “Oh, I’m SURE we’ll have someone for you.” (followed, always, by, “But call back next Monday just to confirm”) as good enough, but I couldn’t do it. 

MOVING ON.

You may have noticed back there a few vents ago that I referenced food delivery. And lo, we are no longer having a taco party. My husband convinced me and Carla that getting takeout from a local restaurant would be better and easier. (And more expensive, probably? But I didn’t do any sort of price comparison because I don’t want to know.) 

Carla also vacillated WILDLY about what kind of dessert to serve. We began, back in April, with beachy cupcakes. Then she decided she didn’t want cupcakes, she wanted some sort of frozen treat. 

Carla did vacillate back to cupcakes and now I’m making watermelon cupcakes.

I couldn’t put together exactly the right LOOK she wanted (I get the feeling her entire vision was based around Ken from the Barbie movie and I could not get that vibe together), so we settled on flamingoes. (There are a ton of cute flamingo options out there, if you are looking for a flamingo theme.) But then she decided she wanted flip flops as part of the theme, too, and then watermelons… and there seem to be plenty of options available if you want to throw a watermelon-themed party or a flip-flop-themed party, but nothing that effortlessly already combines watermelons and flip flops and flamingoes and beach. So now the whole thing feels very chaotic to me. I realize this is a Me Problem, and none of the kids will care, and it will be cute, and the theme will be, loosely, BEACH as intended, and it will be fine and I should waste NO MORE TIME on thinking about this at all. 

Should, of course, being the operative word.

Okay. Food and theme sorted. Now I am in the throes of What If Our Pool Party Becomes an Indoor Party? anxiety, because – as you already Well Know if you’ve read this blog for any length of time – a party at my house is my nightmare. 

Every year since Carla was, I think, three, I have outsourced the party part of her birthday to someone else: a paint-your-own-painting place or an indoor playground or a petting zoo or a nature hike. This is important to me for two very important-to-me reasons: 1. I don’t have to have a bunch of people in my home which I find stressful on cleanliness/food prep/introvert levels, and 2. SOMEONE ELSE TAKES CARE OF THE ENTERTAINMENT. I do not know how to entertain people! I am not entertaining! The only reason I agreed to having a party at my home is because the pool is the entertainment. If we remove the pool from the equation, we have nothing. NOTHING. 

Taking a step back, I think – I really do – that the kids would be okay if they all just hung out in Carla’s room and chatted and did whatever it is tweens do when they are together. But my FEAR is that they will be bored and teenagery and they will have a terrible time and blame Carla for it and she won’t have any friends. 

Yes, yes, ths is catastrophic thinking at its finest (speaking of, of course I have spent many many hours worrying about drowning and other pool related injuries, don’t think I haven’t), I have taken The Threat of the Indoor Party way too far; it will be fine. Even if they are a little bored, it will be fine. Maybe the weather will even be swimmable! Who knows! 

Despite knowing that it will be fine, here is where I am: in a mild state of panic (much milder, I swear, than the all-caps multi-thousands of words might imply), and trying to soothe my panic with rational thoughts and also trying to plan non-boring and fun and cool tweenage things to do just in case they get all bored and mopey and why-did-I-come-herey and I-want-to-go-homey. 

Just to be 100% clear: I FULLY REALIZE I am overthinking things. That is sort of my brand, the overthinking. I promise you that I KNOW I can simply plop the kids down in front of the TV and they will be fine. BUT. It helps me to have A Contingency Plan, and so that’s what I’m trying to assemble. 

Help me? Please?

Here are my ideas so far:

1. A Treasure Hunt. Always a good option. Always fun for me to put together, even if they are stressful and tie my brain in knots. In my experience, group treasure hunts aren’t that great – there’s always one kid who reads really fast and takes over and the other kids are left to trail behind. But I could divide the kids into teams of two and they could compete with one another; in fact, I panic bought a bunch of clearance items from Michael’s that I could use as door prizes. But treasure hunts are a LOT of work and they always take far less time for the kids to complete than they take me to put together. 

2. Truth or Dare. The kids seem to love to play truth or dare, as I did when I was their age. Because I am (tada!) an overanxious parent, I would probably come up with some pre-planned truths and dares and print them on slips of paper for the kids to choose. That way, we could hopefully avoid destructive/dangerous dares and awkward/hurtful truths. (Like “what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?” and “what superpower would you want?” instead of “what’s your most embarrassing moment?” or “who do you have a crush on?”) (By the way, this is probably a worthwhile topic for another day: the intervention of parents in their kids’ lives in order to prevent them from experiencing awkwardness/weirdness/discomfort. I have wildly conflicted feeling about that, and also have a child who attends a school where keeping kids comfortable is the norm, for all the strengths and weaknesses of that approach. Which means all her friends have that as their norm, which makes me feel like I need to uphold it when I am hosting them. Again. Different, MUCH THORNIER topic.)

3. Beach Themed Scattergories. I can make a Scattergories scoring card in Canva and print it out for everyone. This might keep them busy for a while, and I could give prizes to the winners of each round.

4. Who Am I?/Celebrity. This one is fun, but it strikes me as kind of difficult because I don’t know which celebs the kids know. It’s not like they are all sitting around watching Full House and Saved by the Bell and a handful of the exact same shows everyone else is watching the way I did as a kid. TSwift and their math teacher are pretty much the only people I can think of that they are all guaranteed to recognize. (They also all probably know our current and former Presidents, but since we all come from different spots on the political spectrum, I don’t think that’s a good option here.)

5. You vs the Birthday Girl? Originally, I thought it might be fun to do something like, “who knows the birthday girl best?” but I would want to be careful not to weight it too heavily in favor of Carla’s best friend. So I’m thinking of a game that awards points for things they can compare, like, “has the same number of letters in her name” or “has the same color eyes” or “has bigger feet” or “is wearing earrings” or things along those lines??? 

6. Nail Polish Spin the Bottle. I saw this on a website somewhere and to be honest, I’m not exactly sure how it works? I think the gist is, you line up ten bottles of nail polish, then spin a bottle of clear polish in the middle, and then you have to paint one toe or fingernail the color you land on. This requires a lot of nail polish… but I could get some from the dollar store. My biggest concern with this game is that the kids will get nail polish on the carpet. 

7. Guess That Tune. We no longer have an Alexa, so we can’t play Song Quiz. But my husband could probably set something up and the kids could keep track of who wins. I don’t know though – seems like a lot of work for a small payoff. 

8. Hide the Candy. I could totally buy a bunch of small, wrapped candy (like tootsie rolls, hork) and hide those all over the house. I feel like maybe Elisabeth did this for a party in the near-recent past, and I recall reading it and feeling astounded by its genius and its simplicity.

9. A Craft. The craft store (yes, I did go to both Michael’s AND the craft store, what of it) had some little flamingo suncatcher crafts on clearance: buy one get TWO free, and that was a theme appropriate deal I could not pass up. It is quite young for the kids – you just paint a plastic thing – but it’s On Theme and it could be something to do. A LAST RESORT, if you will. If we don’t do this craft during the party, I will pop the packages into the kids’ favor bags.

10. Poke a Prize. Carla mentioned this idea briefly – once – awhile ago, and I kind of mumbled and changed the subject, because it is TOO much work, and it also requires some sort of competition so the kids can pick a prize. I did it once in 2020, and it was glorious, and I plan to never do it again.

Okay, here is where you come in. Do any of these games sound reasonable? (We are not going to discuss whether my need for A Contingency Plan is reasonable.) Do any of them sound like instant party sinkers? Do you have any other Awesome Tween Appropriate Games or Activities in your back pocket? Is having gifties/prizes a good idea (to incentivize participation) or a terrible idea? (They will all also get identical treat bags at the end of the party.) I was kind of planning on making sure each kid gets one prize, but maybe that’s… infantilizing? Eleven-year-olds are VERY aware of being babied, based on my limited experience. And, I mean, a pencil case is fun but is your life going to be ruined if you don’t get one?

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Ten!

My daughter is a decade old. A whole decade. It’s astonishing, how quickly the past ten years have swooped by. 

This was the first year… ever??? at least since her birth???? that we had both sets of grandparents on hand for Carla’s birthday. We all went out to dinner at Carla’s favorite restaurant and then came back to our house for presents and cake. After many months of highly specific requests, Carla asked for a simple birthday cake: vanilla cake with raspberry filling and vanilla buttercream. Because I like to make things difficult on myself pretty, and because Carla didn’t have any specific color scheme in mind, I bought a lot of turquoise decorations and then decorated the cake to match. (I did a kind of watercolor effect with the frosting.) 

For her friends birthday party, we went with a succulents theme. I ordered adorable fondant succulent cupcake toppers and – per her request – made a variety of cupcakes (vanilla cake with chocolate buttercream, vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream, and chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream) so that no one had to eat chocolate if they didn’t want to.

I took ZERO photos of the party favors, which were mini succulents, or of the décor, which included succulent-printed tablecloths, paper plates, and paper napkins, and color-coordinated balloons. The party itself was pretty meh from my perspective (the entertainment was very mediocre, especially compared to parties we’ve had in the past, but it was still QUITE expensive; the venue itself was dirty to the point of disgusting, and I am so glad I still keep Lysol wipes in my vehicle; and the staff pretty much ignored us except during the “entertainment” portion of the day and except at the end when they came into the sweltering, filthy party room to tell us we had five minutes to get out; one kid’s parents hadn’t even arrived yet, and she seemed a little worried that we would LEAVE HER there omg. I think it was a poor enough experience that I may leave a google review.), but the kids seemed to have fun, so that’s really all that matters.

My newly minted ten-year-old is everything I had ever hoped, in my wildest dreams, a ten-year-old would be. 

This past year – fourth grade – was the best school year Carla has had so far. She loved her teachers, she loved math, she went to school happy each and every day. Some prior years, she’d balk at school or complain of morning stomachaches. Almost none of that this year. 

I text my husband every morning after I drop Carla off at school (this habit originated in her infancy, when I was convinced I would forget her in my car, and has endured for ten years), and my texts from this past school year are mostly some variation on “Carla was in a great mood this morning!” or “Our unapologetically late child is very cheerful this morning!” While getting out the door on time was still sometimes a challenge, I found that our mornings together were some of my favorite hours in the day. Carla likes to chat about all manner of interesting things on our short drive to school. How words were invented, what puberty is like, how difficult it is to imagine herself driving a car. She went through a phase where she stuck her head out the window during our drive and pretended to be a dog. She went through a phase where she would give me the “weather report” by opening her window and smelling the air. She wore all black almost every day (which, to be fair, makes a lot of things very easy), and then at the very end of the school year – no warning at all – started dressing in color again and announced that her favorite color was no longer black but turquoise.

Current Carla is extremely independent. She likes to ride her bike around the neighborhood, visiting neighbors (and their dogs). She loves to swing on the swingset, singing at the top of her lungs. She still loves to craft, making elaborate scenarios for her Barbies and dinosaurs and Calico Critters (all of which she still plays with). She sometimes declines a parent reading to her at bedtime, in favor of reading to herself. (She loves to read! Her favorite books are graphic novels, and she loves books that feature animals as the main characters.) 

And yet she is also such a cuddly, loving kiddo who loves to spend time with her parents. She enjoys playing video games or practicing the guitar with her dad. She loves snuggling with me on the couch, watching TV or a movie or letting me read to her. She still likes to play pretend, she still adores stuffed animals. When we walk together, she still voluntarily holds my hand. 

She is extremely capable. Sometimes she will unload the dishwasher without my asking. She can make tacos and scrambled eggs with little supervision. She picks up the mail for our neighbors when they are out of town.

She is more and more interested in her appearance. She has Very Specific Ideas about what she wants to wear, and when. She has become newly dedicated to keeping her hair nice, and has begun blow drying it with a blow dryer she wheedled her grandmother into buying her. She has begun applying a swipe or two of my mascara and a little blush while I am distracted. She is interested in grown-up undergarments and deodorant, although she doesn’t yet need either. 

She loves to be busy – and thank goodness, because this was our busiest year so far. She had activities every single day of the week – sometimes two a day! She is so musical and can now play two instruments (three, if you count the recorder which I emphatically do not) AND pick out songs on the piano. She has been in two plays. She loves to sing and sings all the time: when she wakes up, in the shower, while she’s supposed to be eating breakfast, in the car, in the backyard, while she’s riding her bike. She loves math (bless her fabulous math teachers) and science and computational thinking. She is agreeable and cheerful and delightful 99% of the time. The other time, she is pure sassafras – but that’s expected and normal. 

During my end-of-year conference with her primary teacher, I learned that all the kids gave each other end-of-year compliments on the last day. Carla’s peers said that she was supportive and enthusiastic and fun to be around. Her teacher said she is a light. And she is a light. She makes everything glow. 

She makes my life so bright. I cannot wait to see what she does next. 

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Times I Cried Watching A League of Their Own

Carla and I have been working our way through some of the family movies you suggested. So far, we’ve done Freaky Friday, in which I think Lindsay Lohan is excellent. Bend it Like Beckham which was more relationship-heavy than I remembered (and, dare I say, sort of boring?). Newsies, which has a banging soundtrack, and to which Carla said, “Why aren’t there any girl characters?” (She’s not wrong; by my count, there are four total women in the entire movie.) 

Most recently, we dove into A League of Their Own. I started crying pretty much right away. I don’t recall it being a tearjerker, do you? The tears welled up so often that I started making a list. (Um, mild spoilers if you have somehow not yet seen this absolute masterpiece of a movie.)

  • When Marla’s dad blamed her lack of femininity on himself, because he raised her alone after his wife died
  • When Marla left her dad, who was so supportive of her baseball prowess, but is now all alone
  • When Shirley Baker couldn’t find her name on the list, and then when another player figured out that Shirley couldn’t read and helped her find her name and they all cheered
  • When all the women were so excited to be chosen as members of the All American League
  • When Doris talked about how her boyfriend made her feel less-than because she can play ball
  • When Mae said “they ain’t closing me down”
  • When the Black woman threw a ball to one of the Peaches and nodded to the Peaches in a way that said, “Yes, I know I should be among you and it’s super shitty that I’m not simply because of the color of my skin.”
  • When the stands were full of cheering crowds
  • The first time the Peaches sing Evelyn’s song in the locker room 
  • When the telegram guy comes into the locker room with the telegram for Betty Spaghetti
  • When Dottie sobs with relief that the telegram wasn’t about Bob, and with worry for the potential that the next one might have his name on it
  • When Bob shows up at Dottie’s door and she can’t believe he’s there, in person, alive
  • When Dottie says “Can we just hold each other for the rest of our lives?”
  • When Jimmy gives Dottie the “baseball gets inside you” speech
  • The entire portion of the film devoted to the series when Dottie is up at bat against Kit, and Kit so fiercely wants to win and Dottie is so stoic and unflappable
  • When Dottie drops the ball and Kit’s team wins
  • When Dottie tells Kit the things she won’t miss from baseball and hugs Kit and tells her she loves her
  • When Old Dottie tells Old Marla she lost her husband just that winter
  • When Old Stillwell tells Old Dottie his mom died

I’m pretty teary these days. I always tend to get emotional around Carla’s birthday (although less so the past few years, which I thought was a good trend; maybe “turning ten” feels like such a big deal, it’s bringing up extra stuff?). I cannot believe she’s hitting double digits. I cannot believe I’ve known her for a full decade. I cannot believe she is about to head into her final year of elementary school. She brings me so much joy and fills my life with so much light and love and energy and glitter – literal and metaphorical – and I just want time to slow down. 

Some people try to talk me out of these feelings. It’s good that Carla is growing up. It’s what she should be doing. It’s better than the alternative. And to those people I say: yes. You are right. I am so proud and overwhelmed by happiness that I get to watch this person grow and change and become ever more herself. It is a precious gift and one that I do not take for granted. 

And yet I am unabashedly sentimental about Carla of yesterday. I want to feel unborn Carla kick against my hand pressed to my stomach. I want to cradle fresh-baked-loaf-of-bread Carla in my arms and watch her head loll, milk-drunk, against my shoulder. I want to trail toddler Carla down the sidewalk, stopping as she points out every acorn, every leaf, every ant with wonderment and glee infusing her squeaky toddler voice. I want to watch kindergarten Carla spin in her twirly skirt and second grade Carla slide down a snow-covered slide and fourth grade Carla play her guitar. I want all of these things at once, just as much as I want to see what middle school and high school and college and parent Carla will be like. I can hold both of those things – the joy and nostalgia, the excitement for what is yet to come and the grief for what no longer is – in my heart and I can give myself space to feel it all.

We also watched A League of Their Own on the day we put in an offer on a new house. I could feel it, that this was OUR new house. It has everything we could want – a mudroom! a crafting space! room for so many books! – and more. It’s in a beautiful neighborhood, with kids Carla’s age in houses on either side of the house and across the street (the one thing our wonderful current neighborhood lacks is kids her age). It has walking trails and ponds and a playground. And there are so many dogs, you guys. So many dogs. It’s pretty close to perfect, and we put in a competitive offer, and I had a good feeling we would get it, but then we had to wait. Watching A League of Their Own was as much a way to distract myself as it was exposing Carla to the great films of my youth. So I’m sure at least some of the crying was less about the characters’ situation and more about the opposing forces of wanting something so much while also being deeply afraid of letting go of the wonderful thing I already have. 

Because when we say hello to a new house – a house we want, and love – we have to say goodbye to the wonderful house we live in now.

It’s just a house. But. This house is so inextricably tied up with Carla. With Carla and the rapid passage of time. 

My husband and I decided, here, in this house, that we wanted a baby. I walked from my bathroom down the hall to my husband’s home office and announced I was pregnant. We painted our baby’s room the perfect shade of pale purple and carefully chose art for her walls. We brought baby Carla home to this house. I slept on the floor in front of her crib countless times. I sat with her on the carpet in the living room, pointing out the sliding glass doors to the wonderful goings on in the yard: the squirrels and bunnies frolicking in the grass, the sun moving over the lawn and peeking through the hedges, the leaves of the oak tree shifting overhead. She learned how to walk here, how to ride a bike, how to swing and blow bubbles and do multiplication. This home was our refuge during the lockdown of 2020. It’s housed ten thousand make-believe games, a hundred thousand art projects, countless hours of singing. How can I leave this house when it’s so full of Carla? So full of versions of Carla that exist only in memory and the molecules of these walls?

Letting go – even when it is a good thing, even when it is the way things should be – is so hard for me. Maybe it is hard for you, too. If not, I envy your ability to leap across the gap to the next thing, confident that you will find footing on the other side. 

As always with anything: Things could change, things could fall apart. As it stands now, we close on our new house in July and will likely move in August or September. This will be Carla’s last birthday in this house, the house she’s lived in her entire life. I am so excited. I am so sad. I hold both of these feelings at once in my heart.