Issue 52: The Heartache of Kids' Birthday Parties
And the me/not me paradigm that allowed me to let it go (at least a little bit)
At my mom’s circle last week, I talked a lot about wanting to soften my children’s emotional experiences—not so much to prevent them from facing frustration, anger, sadness, fear, but the yearning to cushion it, to find a way through it more easily and with a little less pain.
Our group mentor responded to me with grace: “This feels like a ‘me/not me’ problem.” She explained that I become caught up in Chase’s feelings and begin to take them on as my own. By agonizing about how to lead my son through difficult emotions, I’m adopting his path as my own when it is really his to walk. She encouraged me to see that his confronting of big feelings is a not me issue, it is his, and that the way forward isn’t to abandon him in those moments but to soften my need to own it and solve it, and that my unwavering presence and deep trust in him is enough.
It felt a bit revolutionary—if a little strange—to consider allowing my five-year-old to have autonomy in navigating a problem, especially in the gentle parenting era where we are encouraged to be very involved in the emotional worlds of our kids. But I thought about how it feels when I’m facing something challenging and that what I crave from my family, my friends, my partner, is never a solution—not really. It’s simply listening and trying to understand, it’s offering attention and care and love. Our little selves hold so many of the same needs we do as adults, and what we often need is simply to be seen, not solved.
I have a simmering anxiety about planning my son’s 6th birthday, and have for months. For the last five years, we’ve only had a party once, for his 3rd birthday. It was small but festive—cupcake decorating at a playground with some friends and family. His first two birthdays were during the pandemic, and for the last two celebrations, Kyle and I have taken him out for a special day just the three of us: a trip to the aquarium, a ferry ride into San Francisco, escargot at a fancy French bistro (his request, a real wildcard). They were low-key, easy to plan, and felt special. Now that he’s in Kindergarten, traditional birthday parties feel like more of a mandate: he’s more acutely aware of others’ parties (whether on the invite list or not), he’s attended enough to know that they’re a thing (with many avenues of venue, theme and elaborateness), and quite frankly, mom and dad are probably starting to seem a little second fiddle to the option of hanging with friends.
The thing is, the prospect of planning a birthday party for him makes my stomach turn to knots, as various worries creep in: how do we decide who to invite? What about the kids who we inevitably have to leave off the list? Will friends from various aspects of his life—babydom and daycare, preschool, kindergarten—mesh? What if it’s nothing like he imagined it would be? What if no one shows up? These worries extend to other children’s birthday parties, too: what if he isn’t invited to a friend’s birthday party, but his classmates are? What if he hears friends talking about that weekend’s party and realizes he was left out? And most centrally: Are children’s birthday parties a catalyst to kids wondering if they’re enough?
To my rational mind, I know these anxieties are overprotective at best, self-obsessed at worst; of course my kid is going to experience exclusion and hurt feelings in childhood, and he has to confront those feelings when they arise to grow and learn as a person living in an often unfair world. But birthday parties leave so much opportunity for this heartache to surface early and often that it feels like a cruel assault to the fleeting innocence of childhood.
As I turned these anxieties over in my head, I thought back to our circle and realized was that this was actually a me issue. Chase had never expressed feeling worry about having or not having a birthday party, about who he would invite and if those kids would say yes or no. The fears were mine, not his.
I think so often as parents we take on worry and anxiety for our kids as an attempt to protect them from heartache, the conviction that if we can find a way to buffer the pain—whether to mitigate it, or soften it, or prepare them for it—we are good parents. But what ends up happening is we create fear with our own good intentions, wrapping it in anxiety and worry that may not have been there at the start (while also hindering their self-trust). Mired in the dynamics of my kids’ birthday parties, I had become lost in the memories of when I myself had been excluded by friends or classmates, remembering how badly that stings. To want to prevent pain in the people we love is probably one of the most human impulses there is, and in parenthood it becomes even more acute—an innate desire to protect our kids from harm, physical and emotional, at any cost. I think it’s helpful to consider the me/not me paradigm when emotions surface—theirs and mine.
As birthday party highlight reels litter my social media feeds, I wonder often if other mothers feel this way or if planning these events for their kids feels full of joy and ease. I wonder if they lay awake at night running through the RSVPs and agonizing over each response marked ‘no.’ I wonder if they replay a conversation heard during drop-off about a party their child wasn’t invited to. I wonder if they fear disappointment. I wonder if they let it all go. Even if it’s not birthday parties, I have a sense that there’s probably some seemingly benign aspect of raising children that each parent harbors anxiety and fear about in private, one that they’re still working out what is me and not me for themselves.
I’m not sure how the celebration will play out in May—if we’ll cheers amidst friends in the park, or succumb to a party package at the local trampoline park. Maybe we’ll embark on another adventure as a family, or blow rainbow-colored birthday candles out at dusk in our pajamas. Whatever it looks like, I will be there and he will be there and it will most certainly be us.
Worth Watching: Sing, Sing
Most years I’m extremely invested in watching all of the Oscar-nominated movies, especially the 10 Best Picture nominees. Last year I watched 12, plus some documentaries and shorts! This year, I only watched a few, and that’s okay. One that I did watch was Sing, Sing, based on Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) at Sing Sing maximum security prison in New York, which allows incarcerated individuals to take part in theatrical stage shows and other art programs. Colman Domingo is incredible in the lead role (for which he received a Best Actor nomination), and what’s even more astounding is that most of the incarcerated men in the movie are played by the actual inmates of Sing Sing that participated in the program. If you want to feel more connected to humanity (which feels in short supply these days), watch this film. Available on Apple TV.
Worth Downloading: Pango Books
As someone who is trying to use Amazon as little as possible, I was excited to discover Pango Books, an app for readers to sell their books directly to other readers. You can typically find multiple listings for a book, and they’re often competitively priced. Plus it feels nice to support other book lovers in the purchase of a book!
Would you do me a favor and click the little heart at the bottom of this post? It *really* helps other readers find this newsletter. thank you, thank you! ❤️
Worth Spending: A $3 Bead Kit
I enjoy doing arts and crafts with my kids. But what often stops me from taking the plunge is the lengthy efforts and costs that often go into making them happen (only to entertain my children for 7 minutes, fun!). So when we did a little drive-by through the art section at Target last week and I saw this $3 bead kit, I was in. My three-year-old spent close to an hour making bracelets and her brother joined in too. We made 4 bracelets and have enough beads left for several others. Type B moms: rejoice!
Worth Adding to Cart: The HappyMe Journal
I’ve been a lifelong journaler, so when I came across the HappyMe Journal (awful name, oof)—a journal with prompts designed for kids—I was intrigued. The framework is intended to spark gratitude, a growth mindset, kindness and self-inquiry, and is formatted in a really compelling way for new journalers. I haven’t bought it (will report back if I do!), but I’m wondering if it could be an interesting way to get my Kindergartener to process big feelings. Sidenote: they actually have four versions: Ages 3-6; 6-12; teen journal; and for grown-ups.
Worth Clicking: How Do You Get Your Kicks?
This short essay by of slayed me. A working mom of two little boys, she talks about how once or twice a week she will indulge in a little mid-day WFH nap on the guest bed in her basement, but to make it feel fancy she calls it “the hotel” and treats it as such: soft, warm lighting, a change of comfy clothes awaiting her. She’s thinking about other ways to glamourize the experience, too:
“I’ve been brainstorming ways to make it even cozier, like getting personalized stationery to leave on my nightstand, since some of my best writing ideas come to me down there. I’m thinking some superfine cardstock that reads, “The Garelick Guesthouse.” Or maybe I’ll start spraying my favorite perfume on the pillows. Currently, I love this scent called African Leather by Memo Paris. I did have some dried lavender next to the nightstand, but I kept knocking it over when my alarm would wake me up.”
It was a fun exercise to think about how to romanticize my currently very unromantic life—maybe some water-filled champagne flutes in the pick-up line? I’m workshopping it. I highly recommend subscribing to Nicole’s Substack for more takes on motherhood, often served with a side of laughter.
Worth Quoting: “I’ve Been Thinking About Love Again” by Vievee Francis
Those who live to have it and those who live to give it. Of course there are those for whom both are true, but never in the same measure. Those who have it to give are like cardinals in the snow. So easy and beautifully lit. Some are rabbits. Hard to see except for those who would prey upon them: all that softness and quaking and blood. Those who want it cannot be satisfied. Eagle-eyed and such talons, any furred thing will do. So easy to rip out a heart when it is throbbing so hard. I wander out into the winter. I know what I am.
Christy, I love this essay. It resonates so deeply with me. Birthday parties bring up so much for moms (the good and the bad!). The pressure can be a lot, but I’ve learned that all my kids really want is to be surrounded by the people they love and, of course, enjoy some cake! Keeping it simple (and very us!) has worked well.
The “me/not me” problem concept is one I’m going to carry with me as a mom. Such a great reminder to separate ourselves from our kid’s emotions. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful piece!
Thanks for including me!