A Batman Birthday

At some point during my third trip to Party City, this time with both kids and an overflowing pile of Batman paraphernalia in tow, I had this thought: what am I DOING?!

I mean, seriously. I was standing there, buckling under the weight of a basket stuffed with streamers and plastic forks and paper masks and bottles of bubbles, while Riley shrieked in his stroller and Miles whined, “But, Mamaaaa... I want THESE for my party, too! And THOSE ones.”

I’ve said before that I dread am not a huge fan of kids’ birthday parties. I’m all about celebrating milestones and having fun with friends, but my goodness -- the venues, the guest lists, the catering, the presents, the GOODY BAGS!! It’s all too much. I see years of licensed-character-themed cakes and staggering Target gift receipts flashing before my eyes.

So I try to keep it simple. A backyard BBQ, a handful of friends. But before you know it, I’m dashing all over town searching for individually packaged sidewalk chalk and Batman-blue napkins. (It is NOT just plain old navy blue, people.)

Part of what pulls me in is my son’s excitement. Just because I’ve suffered through a kajillion kiddie birthday parties and would opt for a bikini wax rather than attend another at the same damn place AGAIN doesn’t mean Miles feels the same way.

Especially when it’s HIS birthday. He’s basically been talking about it for a year. He was all about Batman until he saw the Spiderman cake at the store. (Yes, I got a store-bought cake this year. I drew the line at black frosting. Also, our oven broke. I took that as a sign.)

Once again, I tried to keep the guest list small, but somehow it grew. Miles made an exception to his all-boy rule for siblings and his cousin. Then C. and I forced the parents to come so we wouldn’t have to suffer alone. Plus, I think family parties are more fun than a bunch of parents standing awkwardly on the sidelines of some kids’ gym, no adult beverages in sight.

Anyway, the party was a success. Yes, the kids screamed and ran around and trashed the house and our lawn will never be the same. But it was fun. Even the piñata -- which I had serious reservations about -- was a crowd-pleaser, and only caused one minor injury (To C.) My 4 m.o. nephew even took a swing at it.

The best parts for me: After I hung up all the tacky Batman crap Miles said, wide-eyed, “Thanks for decorating for my party, Mama!” And seeing him race to the door every 10 min.: “Is that a guest?” (His word.) And seeing him with his friends. At 4, they are real little people, with unique personalities and manners (sometimes) and inside jokes, even. Crazy.

Well, Miles, I can hardly believe it, but you’re 4. FOUR! Happy birthday, buddy! Here’s a look back at birthdays past:

Your original birth day. That was a loooong day.

Your 1st birthday Q&A.

Your 2nd birthday, “The Year of the Truck.” (check out that dump truck cake, people!)

Your 3rd birthday was all about Spiderman and your new baby brother.

What will next year bring, I wonder?