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Happy Birthday, Micah!In the interest of full disclosure, I believed that birthday parties for 1-year-olds were a horrible idea. Why in the world would my husband and I want to give up a Saturday or Sunday to bring a gift and sing “happy birthday” to a child who had no idea why we’re there or that it’s even his birthday? Getting pregnant didn’t change my mind. I remained firmly opposed to birthday parties. After all, why should he celebrate? He didn’t do anything. I was the one taking my temperature, mapping ovulation cycles, downing giant pink pre-natal horse pills and nagging my husband every couple of weeks with “It’s time!” Once I got pregnant, I was hungry, tired and swollen. As an added bonus to the whole experience, my son refused to come out on his own. I never went into labor. Instead, I went into surgery – I had a C-section and Micah Alexander was born on May 30, 2007. And now I’m wondering: Is hiring a bartender and a DJ too much? Fortunately for my husband, who reminded me that we once made a rule that kids born into our family don’t get birthday parties until they are old enough to ask for birthday parties, a DJ and bartender are not in our budget. As a matter of fact, many things are not in our budget these days. Jimmy insisted, even during long episodes of steady employment, that we live below our means and put a portion of every paycheck away. This has proven to be a very successful strategy for our family. And while we have cinched our belt considerably, we are lucky to be a position to pay our mortgage, our bills – both doctor and others – and care for our child. A little boy with big dimples and squishy thighs that has made us smile more than is probably fair. He has brought us so much joy that we find it nearly impossible to mourn lost jobs, deflated paychecks and waiting out long weekends for Monday to arrive. The beginning of the workweek introduces renewed possibility of professional contentment and prosperity. But sometimes our hearts, against our will, get heavy. Next year, Micah will be starting school and our interest rates are set to bump up. That’s why, against my husband’s sworn demands, I absolutely remained committed to planning the very best first birthday party ever for our son. His day would be our day, scratch that, our weekend, to celebrate this little guy and the happiness he has brought to our lives. On Friday, May 30, our family started arriving. Micah’s grandparents flew in to be with him. They watched as he dipped his fingers into his first mound of sugar. Adding to the sweetness of the weekend, Micah’s Great Uncle Paul and Great Aunt Sheila flew across the country to sing him happy birthday. Sunday, Micah’s playgroup friends poured in through our front door to join us in our merriment. We didn’t have a caterer but we did have two grandmas who helped serve pastas and salad, homemade breads and delicious gooey s’mores. Micah’s Godmother, Daniella, prepared the most perfect cupcakes. There was no bartender – but there was me with my orange juice and champagne offering mimosas to anyone who was willing to drink before 2 p.m. There wasn’t a DJ, but there was one fabulous music teacher who expertly captivated the attention of 15 babies. Everyone shook toy musical instruments. We sang and we clapped. It was a happy and perfect day, even if I had to mix my own drink. As the last of the guests and family left, I sat on our couch, exhausted. I was already dreaming of the big fat Ambien I would take that night to finally get the rest I hadn’t had in over a week. Planning a birthday party is not for the faint of heart, but neither is what happened next. “I was wrong, you were right,” Jimmy said, looking down at me while I picked cupcake out of my hair. “The party was fantastic. And I’m really glad we did it, well, that you did it.” My eyes welled up, and instead of putting in a request for a bartender for next year’s party, I very simply said, “Thank you.” Because that is, after all, what I was: thankful. – Lisa
lives in Sandy Springs with her husband
Jimmy. |
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