Happy Birthday To You!

Birthdays. They are just as special as the people who have them. The image that comes in front of our eyes when we think of birthday is that of a cake, greeting cards, gifts, streamers, balloons, party and of course, the birthday bumps. You would agree, right? Hmmm! Not when you are a Mum.

Every single year. Year after year. I dread this day! Two months out of my twelve months go into the planning. And pre-planning. And post-planning. And more planning. And as the children are growing older, they are, obviously, using their own brains. Earlier, the guests were our friends, with or without children. Now it is only their friends. All children. Yes, as if two of mine were not enough; I am quite brave to fill up my house with children and more children. Without their parents to ‘handle’ them!

So, it all begins with making the invite list. One would imagine it to be an easy job, second year onwards. Just edit the previous year’s list and probably add more names. No. Since the kids have realised that they have a say in this, they are making full use of their veto power. ‘Mamma, I haven’t played with this boy in the last six months.’ ‘But sonny, he is a good friend.’ ‘Not anymore. He is just a hi-hello friend now.’ And you are left wondering how he would react when he meets that boy in the playground, the next day. But kids are such. They don’t worry as much as their moms.

Well, this job roughly takes two weeks, what with losing that wretched piece of paper a few number of times. Scratching and adding and overwriting and finally the list is ready. Phew! Then, we actually have to invite the kids. The eco-version of me takes over and I declare that we send Whatsapp messages to all. The rebel-version of them insists on paper invites. I give in for lack of time and patience. So, the first day goes in deciding the theme, if we are lucky. Then they spend the next two days with the laptop making invites. The invite part takes less than half an hour. The major chunk of the time goes in exploring the future seasons of their favourite shows on YouTube, updating their MP3 player and of course, playing games.

With invites out of the way, the cake design needs to be finalised, along with the flavour. Big tussle. But thanks to modern printing technology, we can get almost anything printed on the face of the cake. Yes, my daughter did abuse this technology.... her cake read ‘Meow In Peace’. Her latest self-created obsession.... Friendly Cats!

Then comes the dragging-them-to-the-clothes-store part at ungodly hours because they don’t want to sacrifice their playtime. ‘Mamma, why are you SO obsessed with clothes?!’ And then the scene that is created because they want eye-blinding sparkly clothes and accessories whereas all I want is normal wearable clothes....! We barely make it out of the shop before they close down for the day!

One would hope that everything is in place. But, no. The most important thing of all... the return gifts. It has to be thoughtful and useful, yet not something common and must be available in the quantity that we want. This is the epitome of meltdown... first by kids and then by me! The husband takes charge now and we find a way to compromise.

As the day of the party draws closer, my diet plan is put into action. After all, it’s the matter of photographs for the next full year. And everybody knows not to mess with a carbs-deficient mother. The decor part is trusted to the dad, who is wise enough to not fall short of any expectations. All set for the D-day.... are we?

Finally, the beautiful day dawns, when I remember the labour pain and the number of stitches that I had to bear. But instantly, I am reminded of the tiny fingers and toes that made it all worth it. And it feels so proud, year on year, of how happy they make me. And just like that, poof! The moment vanishes.... we have a party to host! The enthusiasm is at its zenith. All the hustle and bustle of the last few weeks is put to a test. 

Their friends start arriving. The joy and cheer is infectious. The giggles and glow make it all worth it! The blowing of the candles and the loud ‘Happy birthday to youuuuu...’ and my eyes well up with tears of joy! Running between ‘Aunty, my Mamma has told me not to drink any cold drinks’ to ‘Aunty, does this cake have eggs?’ to ‘Aunty, can I have the icing piece from the cake?’ to ‘Aunty, my Mamma has asked me to call her when I reach and before I leave and once every half an hour!’ takes a toll on me and my diet. I end up hogging the biggest piece of the lusciously delicious cake.

Somehow, we survive those three to four hours. All kids go back happy. My kids are happy. Not to forget, attending or missing the umpteen number of phone calls from the outstation relatives. And calling them back! And, not to forget, the new-age social media obligations! Facebook and WhatsApp scream for attention. Anyway, all’s well that ends well! The clearing off and the spills and the drips and mopping and washing and the gift wrappers and the leftovers and the sigh of relief! Another job of my to-do list struck off till the next year. 

Oopsie! The temple visit is still due. Rushing there, now! See you next year!