Birthday, Take 2

So this post being the actual account of the party itself. I was fully prepared, table set, doing great at 3 in the afternoon. I had a few calls from a mom who had decided to keep her twins home because they were running fevers (the entire class had coughs and runny noses, but fevers are the maternal line in the sand - you can't in good conscience send your child to an event with a fever. You can't be "that mom"). She told me they had gone from "Party party party!" to glassy-eyed and passed-out asleep in a matter of hours. I had another call asking for directions since her kids had "played the invitation to death" (they were tiny toadstools). It was 3:45 and I was searching the house high and low for my husband. I even looked in the garage. Lilah was trailing behind me saying, "Mama. Mama. Mother. Mother. MOTHER!" I spun around.

"What?!"
"Daddy isn't here."
"Of course he is."
"No he isn't. He went with Rob to buy beer." I stared at her, probably mouth gaping. "To drink." No words. "At my party." I was going to kill him. Brutally. I called him to confirm that Lilah had gotten it wrong.
"It wasn't supposed to take very long! Rob is taking forever!" I unleashed a barrage of words and hung up. There were people knocking at my door. Lilah took my hand in her small one.
"Why are you taking yoga breaths, Mama?" I smiled at her and slowed my breathing to a pace that wouldn't lead me to hyperventilate.

Dano got home mere moments before anyone arrived and helped me take coats and boots and hand out wings and hats to the merry partygoers. The children were led to the snack table where they cast cursory glances about the items, poked at the hard boiled eggs I had painstakingly fashioned into owls ("Hey look! Egg-monsters!") and dumped out the one toy box I had left out for that very purpose.

One little winged girl stayed with me at the craft table to make a birdhouse. We had 9 little houses painted with green chalkboard paint and piles of moss, river rocks, ribbons, and leaves to decorate their fairy houses to take home.

The fathers accompanying their children had faces that went from (what I perceived to be) mild dejection at spending a Sunday afternoon at a 4 year old's party to surprised delight when handed a beer and ushered to a table heavy-laden with snacks. I did have to shoo the birthday girl away from the bowl of tortilla chips after I caught her dipping them in hummus, taking a bite, and replacing the chip in the bowl. The kids tore up to Lilah's room where they saw the corner "Forest area" and immediately pounced. I almost stopped them. Lilah had been so enchanted with it when I set it up that she had just wanted to sit there in silent awe. These kids were armed with fairy wings and gnome hats and had been escorted into a corner of Wonderland. They were taking full advantage. They clambered for turns to sit on the mushroom under the foliage. They lined up preschool-style and each had an apparent internal clock that began ticking once the small bottom of the child ahead of them touched the toadstool and was up approximately 60 seconds afterwards. Then the next in line announced that it was their turn. The carefully laid out fabric strips were soon cast aside. They devised an assembly line that took the need for an adult completely out of the picture. With 4 bodies and one step-stool, they could scale the mushroom, wriggle about, and then leap off and run to the back of the line. I asked one little boy, "Why not just sit quietly on the mushroom?" I wasn't trying to change them. I was just honestly curious what was different in their minds than in Lilah's. He looked at me and actually raised an eyebrow.

"Because fairies don't just sit. They run and fly. Oh! Can I have wings too?" I babbled something about girls having fairy wings and boys having gnome hats, remembering a conversation where I'd recently scoffed at Dano for suggesting the children be allowed to choose which woodland creature they wanted to dress as. I recalled Dr Kolin's fondness for a certain phrase, something about "eating crow", and made a note to tell Dano later.
"Well, you have a gnome hat don't you?" He sneered.
"Gnomes don't fly."
"Aren't fairies girls?"
"There are boy fairies too, you know." He scowled with such indignation, I took a step backward and immediately handed him a pair of green wings. Another example of how we as adults impose our gender ideas on our children. When left to their own devices, they're completely devoid of notions of sexuality aside from knowing their own gender. I went downstairs, allowing the children to destroy Lilah's room and take turns launching themselves off the mushroom, hoping against hope each time that they'd fly.

The kids wandered down one by one for a drink or snack and to make their fairy houses, which all turned out beautifully. I felt a tug on my skirt and knelt down to a little girl's level.
"This is a birthday party. Shouldn't we eat cake?" I laughed and tapped her nose.
"You were all so busy playing I was waiting for you to be done. Why don't you go tell everyone it's cake time." She was off in a heartbeat and led a parade of woodland creatures downstairs. They arranged themselves in an arc on the floor (refer to the aforementioned lack of chairs) with plates and cups. I gave each one a glass jar of homemade chocolate pudding with crushed oreos and a gummy worm inside. Lilah clutched the fairy dolls that had adorned the cake and blew out her candles with some effort but, for the first year, all on her own. They all ate cake, which I was told was very tasty. I somehow wrangled them all into the living room for presents. I put Lilah on a chair and her cousins and friends took turns handing her gifts. Per usual, she had a hard time not stopping to play with each new item as she opened it. She received so many varied and wonderful things. A book about a dog named Lila, crayons, clothes, a beautiful handmade diorama with tree bark and dried flowers (as well as birds and caterpillars to move about in their home), fun new toys, a painting of cherry blossoms, an embroidered purse, necklaces, an Etch-a-Sketch, and too much more to list. The other kids were very eager to try out all the new toys. At one point, a little girl had Lilah backed into a corner asking for a turn with a toy still in its package. Lilah was politely refusing and the girl kept advancing her into the corner, trying to snatch it. I diffused the situation by picking the girl up under her arms and placing her 10 paces away, allowing Lilah to make her escape. The girl shrugged and walked off.

After a couple of hours, the parents gathered their children to take them home. They took their dress-up gear, fairy house, and wooden picture frame favors in the shape of bugs, butterflies, and snails. The dads shook our hands and genuinely thanked us for a great party. I raised an eyebrow at my kitchen counter lined with beer bottles and replied that I was happy they'd enjoyed themselves. One father carried his daughter in his arms, her eyes already closed and her thumb in her mouth. The mother of the boy in fairy wings attempted to remove them from him, finally accepting it was a losing battle with a sigh of resignation. Lilah was sugar-crazed and happy, finally settling in to play with all her toys. She was wearing about 4 layers over her birthday dress, all items she'd received that day. I congratulated myself on not being overbearing, obsessed with the appearance of the house (which was now more or less a war-zone), and for allowing the children to destroy the woodland corner. I laughed at myself for thinking they would agree to sit quietly for a photo-op in the first place. These weren't preteens taking duck-lipped pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror to use as profile pictures for the Facebook account they shouldn't be allowed to have in the first place. They were 9 children who were still in that magic stage of limitless possibilities and innocent faith. Even Lilah who scoffs at Santa and Jesus alike would run off blindly into the night if she heard the familiar "whoosh" of the Tardis or jump from any height if it were suggested someone had sprinkled her with pixie dust. For all the sassiness and limit-testing, 4 seemed like an amazing age. They were old enough to converse and reason, but young enough to believe in magic. This will be a beautiful year.