It’s 9:30 p.m., just two days before my little one’s third birthday. After finally getting all four of our kids tucked in, though not necessarily asleep, I sit down at my laptop, my mind racing. What can I possibly order for my youngest? We already have an overwhelming amount of toys.
With only a few hours left before the deadline for two-day shipping, I realize that even if I place my order right now, her gifts will only arrive by 9 p.m. on her birthday. Yikes.
Let me clarify: I adore birthdays. I grew up in a household where my mom went all out. Every year, we celebrated with a creatively themed party inspired by the 1980s, complete with friends and family. My mom cooked whatever meal we desired—regardless of how bizarre the combination might be. We opened presents, donned new outfits, and took homemade treats to school. It was truly magical. I’ve been determined to pass on that love of birthdays to my four children, and until now, I’ve done quite well.
However, managing a big family comes with its challenges. Two kids? That’s manageable. Three kids? We start to feel the chaos. But four kids? We’ve got loudness, big emotions, and yes, six birthdays to celebrate each year. That’s a whole lot of planning.
I can’t believe my daughter’s birthday snuck up on me this year. It’s always on the same date, yet somehow, I was caught off guard. I know that having a birthday right after school starts, during that awkward transition from summer to fall, means she might not get all the attention she deserves.
Am I disappointed that her gifts ended up being strawberry toothpaste, a board book, and a Daniel Tiger t-shirt? A little, maybe. I was feeling guilty about potential late deliveries, so I found myself obsessively tracking the package for two whole days. As if checking the shipping status repeatedly would make it arrive any sooner.
On the night before her birthday, my husband dashed to the grocery store for her requested watermelon popsicles. Out of guilt and poor planning, he also grabbed a brownie mix and some ice cream. After all, birthdays are for indulging, right?
The morning of her birthday started with hugs and kisses, but when she asked, “Can I open presents?” I had to say not yet—I immediately pulled out my phone to check the delivery status again. Luckily, my account assured me the gifts were out for delivery.
That afternoon, my daughter and two of her siblings attended a friend’s birthday party. Yes, my child went to someone else’s celebration on her own special day. They had a fantastic time at the indoor play area, but the fun ended when they returned home.
While my tween and I stayed back to prepare the brownies, we heard our toddler’s cries before we even saw her. She came into the house sobbing, complaining of ear pain. I grabbed the thermometer, and sure enough, she had a low fever. Fantastic. I changed clothes, buckled her into the car, and sped off to urgent care. Thankfully, we had no wait—call it birthday magic—and in just 45 minutes, we learned she had a pretty severe ear infection. We left with a prescription for antibiotics.
By the time we got home, her pain medication had kicked in a bit, and she was feeling better. “Is it time for presents yet?” she asked. My husband texted to inform me that the packages had arrived.
As soon as we got home, I handed my now-three-year-old to her dad, quickly wrapped her gifts from my closet, and emerged with a mismatched stack of wrapped surprises. Her joy was infectious.
Despite my mom guilt and doubts, she adored her gifts. Who knew strawberry toothpaste could bring so much happiness? She cheered for her t-shirt, pointing out all the character faces on it. And the board book? She immediately placed it in her bed, excited to read it that night.
For her birthday dinner, we ended up serving leftovers, which she wasn’t particularly interested in. So, we gave her one of her beloved popsicles—after all, it counts as a fruit serving, right? Plus, birthdays are all about enjoying what you want.
As she grew tired and cranky, we quickly bathed her, got her into pajamas, promised to wash her new tee for the next day, and tucked her in. The older kids complained about the lack of brownies and ice cream, and I told them to deal with it—it wasn’t their birthday.
The dessert finally made an appearance the following evening after dinner. We had three dollar-store candles stuffed in a baggie in the pantry—thank goodness! I shoved them into the brownies, we sang, and then dove into the deliciousness.
Two days later, she returned from preschool wearing a paper birthday crown. For days, she paraded around the house in it, whining loudly whenever she misplaced it, “Where is my crown?!?” The thing that brought her the most joy was a simple crown made of shiny cardstock.
I realized I had been stressing over nothing. Her birthday was special because it spanned several days, filled with attention—which I’m convinced is her love language. The inexpensive gifts she received meant the world to her.
There’s immense pressure on parents to create flawless, extravagant birthday celebrations. We think we need themed parties, classroom celebrations, and family gatherings to prove our love. What I learned from what I thought was a birthday blunder is that children just want to feel cherished. Their special day doesn’t need to be expensive or meticulously planned. Sometimes, the spontaneous surprises hold the most magic.
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Summary
In the chaos of parenting four children, Emily Carter forgets her youngest child’s birthday until the last minute. Despite the pressure to provide an extravagant celebration, she learns that the simple acts of love and attention make for a memorable birthday. The experience highlights that what truly matters is making children feel special, rather than adhering to societal expectations.
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