Yesterday we celebrated C’s 5th birthday. Wow. It’s hard to believe that 5 years ago, after 30 hours of labor, C made her appearance. I do believe that for me personally, my labor and delivery experiences reflect something about my children’s personalities. With C, my water broke at about 12:30 on a Saturday afternoon, but she didn’t come out until 6:30pm the following Sunday night. And almost every morning, when we try to leave the house, I’m reminded of how frequently she keeps the rest of us waiting.
“I’m ready! I’m ready!” she often says only to go back into her room to make a 3rd outfit change, to switch to her sparkly flower shoes instead of her sparkly red shoes or to decide she wants leggings instead of tights. 25 minutes later, we FINALLY leave the house.
Despite this personality trait (and my husband likes to point out that C inherited this trait from me), C deserved to celebrate her 5th birthday Santa Barbara style: bounce house, snacks, cake and a pinata. Did I mention bounce house?
The requested princess castle bounce house arrived at 9:00am. As we gathered in the backyard to watch the SB Jumps men inflate the 17-foot-tall bounce house in our not-so-big yard, P began to panic. She immediately grabbed my hand and started pulling me back toward the house. As I headed inside with her, she ran back outside and desperately tried to convince C to come inside with us. In P’s mind, there was a gigantic pink and purple monster forming right before her eyes and it was going to devour her entire family. Fortunately, after spending some time in the bounce house, P grew to like it so much that she bounced happily for most of the party.
As for C, she loves bounce houses and she loves parties. She loves going to everyone and anyone’s birthday parties. However, F and I, being self-proclaimed socially awkward individuals, decided to keep the party small — C’s closest friends from her preschool along with some friends we have made since moving to Santa Barbara 3 years ago. It was about 8 kids total with their beautiful and lovely mothers. There were men at the party — surrogate grandpa, Tito Jose, and a dad who came a bit later. But for a while there, it was F and the ladies, but he’s used to that.
The party seemed to be a success. F’s baking efforts, which he gracefully executed after working 30 straight hours at the hospital dealing with horrendous traumas, were much appreciated as the party goers feasted on both homemade cupcakes and carrot cake. The little munchkins seemed content bouncing from bounce house to play room to C’s room and back. Every kiddo had a turn to whack the pinata before it busted open. And there were no tears, from kids or their parents! (Though I do wonder about C’s classmate, a sweet little boy named L. C decided to put on her “wedding dress” dress-up outfit and chase L around the yard because she wanted to marry him. I hope he is not forever traumatized by that event!)
Ah, a successful party for our 5 year old. This means we can go at least 2 years without another birthday party, right?