It’s 9:30 p.m., just two days before my little one’s third birthday. After a long day, we’ve finally managed to tuck our four kids into bed—though not all are asleep yet. As I open my laptop, I scramble to recall what I can buy for my youngest. We already have a mountain of toys at home.
Time is ticking, and with only a few hours left before I miss the two-day shipping cut-off, I start to worry. Even if I place my order now, her gifts won’t arrive until the evening of her birthday. Oops.
Let me clarify: I adore birthdays. I grew up in a household where my mom went all out for each celebration. Every year, we had a creatively themed birthday party, complete with a family gathering. My mom would whip up any meal we desired—even if it was a bizarre mix of foods. We opened presents, donned new outfits, and took homemade treats to school. It was truly magical. I want to pass down that love of birthdays to my four kids, and until now, I felt I was succeeding.
Having four children means embracing the chaos of a big family. With two kids, it’s manageable; three can feel overwhelming. Four? We’re a lively bunch, filled with intense emotions and, yes, we celebrate six birthdays each year. That’s a hefty amount of planning.
I’m not sure how my daughter’s birthday snuck up on me. It’s the same date every year, yet somehow, I find myself unprepared. Having a birthday right after school starts, during that odd transition between summer and fall, means she’s not getting the attention she deserves.
Do I feel remorseful that her birthday gifts ended up being strawberry toothpaste, a board book, and a Daniel Tiger t-shirt? Kind of. Not really. I was anxious about the timing of the gifts, so I found myself obsessively checking the package tracking for days, as if that would speed up the arrival.
The night before her birthday, my husband dashed to the store to grab watermelon popsicles—her preferred birthday treat. In a moment of guilt and last-minute scrambling, he also picked up some brownie mix and ice cream. Because what’s a birthday without sweets, right?
On her special day, we greeted her with hugs and kisses. When she asked, “Can I open presents?” I told her to wait a bit longer while I checked the delivery status again. My account assured me the packages were out for delivery.
Later that day, my daughter and two siblings went to a friend’s birthday party, which felt a bit odd since it was her birthday too. They had a blast at the venue until we returned home.
While my tween and I stayed behind to prepare the brownies, we heard our youngest enter, crying. Her ear was hurting, and she was inconsolable. A quick thermometer check revealed a low fever. Great. I changed my clothes, buckled her into the car, and rushed to urgent care. Luckily, we were seen quickly—call it birthday luck—and within 45 minutes, we learned she had a severe ear infection. A prescription for antibiotics and we were back on our way.
By the time we got home, the pain medication had kicked in, and she seemed a bit better. Is it time for presents yet? My husband texted to confirm that the packages had arrived.
As soon as we returned, I handed my now three-year-old off to her dad and hurried to wrap her gifts from my closet. Emerging with a mismatched stack of wrapped presents, she squealed in delight.
Despite my guilt and doubts, she adored what she received. Who knew toothpaste could bring such joy? She cheered for her t-shirt, naming each character on it. And the board book? She placed it in her bed, excited to read it that night.
Her birthday dinner consisted of leftovers from the previous night, but she wasn’t interested. So, we gave her one of the popsicles instead. After all, it counts as fruit, right? Plus, birthdays are for enjoying your favorite foods.
As she grew tired and cranky, we gave her a quick bath, dressed her in pajamas, promised to wash the new t-shirt for the next day, and tucked her in. My other kids complained about the lack of brownies and ice cream, but I told them to deal with it—it wasn’t their birthday, after all.
The dessert finally made an appearance the following evening. We had three dollar-store candles shoved into a baggie in the pantry. I quickly inserted them into the brownie pan, and we sang and celebrated.
Two days later, she came home from preschool wearing a paper birthday crown. For days after, she paraded around the house with it. When she misplaced it, she wailed, “Where is my crown?!?” The simple cardboard crown turned out to be the highlight of her birthday.
I realized my initial worries were unfounded. Her birthday turned out special and stretched over several days. It was filled with attention—something I believe is her love language. The gifts, though inexpensive, meant the world to her.
There’s immense pressure on parents to create the perfect, extravagant birthday celebration. We feel the need for a Pinterest-worthy party, a classroom celebration, and a family gathering to check every box for our child to feel loved. However, I learned that what children truly want is to feel special. Their birthday doesn’t have to be extravagant or meticulously planned. Often, it’s these spontaneous moments that create the most memorable birthday magic.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt narrative, a mother reflects on the chaos of remembering her youngest child’s birthday amid the demands of a large family. Despite initial worries about gifts and celebrations, she learns that the essence of a special day lies in love and attention rather than extravagance.