Happy (Belated) Birthday
Why I should have gone to my friend's kid's party.
by Theresa Benaquist
October 20, 2008
My friend Emily and I haven't lived in the same state for years, but we always show up for the important stuff: birthdays, breakups, weddings. When I moved across the country, Emily took a week off of work to drive with me. A few years later, I was back on the East Coast, and Emily was living in the White Mountains of New Hampshire with her husband, and was pregnant with their first child, Connor. I drove up for the baby shower, and again a month after Connor was born. But this year, when she called to invite me to his first birthday party, I had to tell her I couldn't make it. I consoled myself by thinking, it's not as if Connor will miss me; he doesn't even know it's his birthday.
I talked to Emily a few days after the party, and asked how it had gone. Emily had constructed an elaborate birthday cake in the shape of a standing snowman. She sent me a photo of a respectable, if somewhat wobbly-looking cake with a black top hat and a baby-carrot nose.
The party had gone well, she said, but certain key members of the family had been less than enthusiastic about coming. Initially, her mother, who lived several hours away, had refused to come, saying that she didn't understand why people threw birthday parties for babies.
"You'd think they would want to come," Emily said. She sounded so hurt.
One of Connor's aunts had been planning a skiing vacation to the area, and rescheduled it for the weekend following the party. "You'd think they would want to come," Emily said. "He's her grandson and her nephew." She sounded so hurt.
It was true, I thought, and a surprisingly cold reaction for a grandmother and an aunt to have. Connor was the newest member of their family, Emily and Nathan's first child, and his aunt's only nephew — why wouldn't his first birthday be a milestone worth showing up for? I pictured Emily up in her farmhouse in the mountains planning Connor's birthday. I pictured her finding the snowman cake recipe and buying streamers and sending invitations. And then I saw her floored when she was not met with the enthusiastic replies she rightly expected.
To be clear, Emily is not a momzilla. She was not a bridezilla. She is not, has never been, and I doubt will ever be anything that can be fairly illustrated with an allusion to a scaly, kitschy movie monster. She is considerate and tolerant. She remembers birthdays and keeps plans. She is rarely late. She laughs easily and often. She can keep a secret. She tells the truth, but gently. Small children love her. Cartoon woodland animals scurry in from the forest to help her make breakfast every morning. When Emily invites you to her child's birthday party, you do your best to go.
©2008 Theresa Benaquist and Babble.com
About the Author
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Theresa Benaquist is a freelance writer and teaches at SUNY Purchase. |
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