Dear #%!@# Baby:
I alluded to not throwing you a first birthday party. Now, you know mama likes her jokes but sorry to say I’m not joking this time.
It’s one of the pitfalls of military life and living away from family and moving several times in a few years. It leaves few people to invite. It also hurts your chances of having a party when many of the people we party with are out of the country, indisposed or, quite frankly, probably don’t care you’re turning one.
Because your mama refused to find a mom’s group in the area, you don’t have any local friends. Don’t feel bad. Mama doesn’t either. Play dates are for chumps. Those germ mongers would probably just get you sick. And then they’d come over here for your party, spread their germs, eat your cake, torment your beloved pets, make a mess and then leave without a single bit of remorse. NO THANKS.
As much as the Pinterester in me wants to throw you a ginormous theme party with banners and cupcakes and matching t-shirts for everyone all sorority style, that ain’t happening. I wish we could bring all the family together to celebrate you and your first 365 days of crazy, everyone from Illinois and Minnesota and Louisiana and everywhere else. It’s pretty hard to get used to being apart from those you love for long periods of time but YOU have an added bonus of not knowing anything different.
Actually you don’t really know anything, so there’s that.
But you’ll learn someday.
And let’s be honest here. There is a significant difference between FINDING ideas/pins and PLANNING a lavish theme event and, you know, actually MAKING that shit and turning it into reality. Hard truth: Wouldn’t happen.
I’ll still let you smash a cake and get all sugar coated. Maybe I’ll even decorate it for you. Like a puppy – your favorite! Or Cookie Monster because he’s blue and I never get to make blue frosting. If you’re lucky you maybe getting a party in Minnesota in July…but you’ll have to share it with me. And Grandma. But I’ll let you smash another cake.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m bummed about your low-key first bash, too.Your first birthday is really more for me anyway and you won’t even know what you’re missing. When those birthday parties DO count, we’ll throw big tacky themed bashes that will make all the other moms wilt with hate.
Until then, sorry buddy. But don’t you cry. I’ll be sobbing enough for both of us because holy @#$! you’re going to be a year old.