Children’s Birthday Parties are a Health Hazard!

I am sitting watching Scared Mom/Charlotte updating Facebook and her blog with all the work she is doing for her daughter’s birthday party – it feels like I am watching a nervous breakdown in process, or at the very least someone who is one Mickey Mouse ear away from going postal.

Charlotte is planning a party – her child’s party and that is about as painful as an enema with VIM.

Watching Charlotte spinning out of control and turning Mommy-Partyzilla is mildly amusing, but a bit unsettling because I am exactly the same, so it is resulting in some post-trauma flash backs to my own experience with me planning and orchestrating parties.

For me parties stop being about the kids who are coming to the party and all about how I am going to outdo myself from last year.

The parents who I need to impress.  The right cake from the right bakery.  The outfit my child will wear.  The photographs.  The organising.  The lists.  The party packs. It all gets too much, too quickly, and I spin out of control, as I add another stupid thing to the list of things to do and to stress about.

And so it goes on – my 6 week stress run up to my kid’s parties strip the life and the joy out of them for me. Every last morsel of joy.  Sucked out.

I hate kid’s parties.

No, you misunderstand, I like coming to YOUR kid’s party.

I HATE arranging, organising, paying way too much, stressing, getting annoyed with stupid people who do not rsvp, wanting to yell at people who rsvp on the morning or the night before to say they are not coming, or “oh yeh, do you mind if we come….” and the worrying that everything will not go to plan.

I hate the associated stress that comes with organising my kid’s birthday parties.

It is January, and you know what?  I cannot tell you the joy I feel that the next time my “turn” pops up is June.  I get 4 – 5 months of happiness and raucous party abandonment and do not have to give it a second thought.

I NEVER enjoy my kid’s birthday parties.

I am too busy, too exhausted, too frazzled to pay attention to what is going on.

Mentally I have a checklist and I am too busy ticking off what needs to be done and when, to actually have a normal conversation.  Logically I keep telling myself “it is only a kid’s party, calm the hell down…” but then I do not. I blow it out of proportion, and when I start booking the ponies, the jumping castle and the magician, then I know I have gone too far.

Problem is I can’t pull myself back, and the only way to behave when you are going OVER THE TOP is to step it up and see if you can book a bucking bronco as well.

Trust me, when my turn comes, I will be thrown in amongst the non-sensical-crazy-blubbering-saliva-on-your-chin-RAMPANT-madness that infects nearly every mother when they know their child’s birthday party looms.

Why is it that fathers do not seem to have their “I am fkn losing my mind” party gene?

Next time around I would like testicles – as they seem to be linked to a relaxed mood and party planning – this ovaries and oestrogen lark is really a bit much.

Good luck Charlotte.

I will be there with my brood, and some screw top wine – for me, not my brood, they can get their own.

If you opened a bag of marshmallows and Flings and threw them on the lawn and let the two-year olds fight it out, they would probably have an equally as good a time, but I know that once Mommy-Partyzilla fever hits, it is just downhill and an anxiety attack from there on in.

Good luck!!!

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