The Birthday Party

G's birthday is mid-June, but we held the party yesterday since we'd been at the beach.  I'm having a hard time deciding if the party was great (considering) or if it was dreadful.

We invited grandparents (67% showed up), neighbors (2 families with 2 kids each showed up), and G's ENTIRE CLASS.  Thankfully, I have experience with this.  Of twenty kids, four showed up.  That was perfect- the kids that came were the neurotypical type who sit quietly and follow directions.

The party was to be just a get-together.  No theme, no games, no activities.  Just a bunch of people talking and hanging out, with the kids running around and playing.  G's dad decided that we should open presents after everyone was gone, as he'd seen this at some other kids' parties and liked it.  I like it, too, in theory.  However, the theory failed for us.

I gave G his meds at 9:00.  Early enough to kick in for church, late enough to cover the party.  All planned out.  I took G to church to participate in the summer Hogwarts program.  We arrived home at noon, knowing that the party was to start at one.  Yaya (paternal grandmother) was already there, and G's dad was cleaning up.  (There was a definite advantage to going to church yesterday!)  G immediately upon arriving home decided he wanted to open his presents from Yaya.  I had explained in the car on the way home that we would be opening presents after the party.  I explained it again, as I was trying to get some food prepared.

Cue perseveration.

Knowing the presents were around took over.  Between 12:30 and 1:00, he asked no less than ten times to open his presents from Yaya.  When told no, each time, there was a crying jag.  Gram (maternal grandmother) showed up at 12:45.  With presents.  More asking to open presents.  More crying when I said no.  We attempted to distract with swinging outside and playing Battleship (I can't take that- ships get moved.  No fair!)

At 1:00, guests start to arrive.  With presents.  G announces that we aren't opening presents until after the party each time someone hands him a gift.  The kids go upstairs to G's room.  Every five minutes G comes downstairs to stare longingly at the pile of presents.  He asks to open them.  I continue to say no.  He continues to fuss.

Parents stand around and talk, everyone seems to be having fun, and G's dad starts to grill.  G decides he's had enough.  He wants his presents.  He won't go play.  He won't leave the room with the presents.  He can't be distracted.  He can't be mollified.  There is crying.  Screaming.  Laying on the floor flailing.  Fortunately, the other kids think our toys are lots of fun and are in other places in the house playing with them.  But the parents are watching my little darling.

Time to switch the game plan.  I talk to G's dad.  I say I think we ought to eat and open presents.  He says okay, he defers to me.  (My husband is a great guy!)  G wolfs down some food.  Then starts to ask every three minutes to open presents.

Just a few more minutes, dear.  Hang on, the other kids aren't all finished eating.  It'll be very soon.  OKAY.  NOW.  For the love of Pete!

We open the presents.  Even with prompting, there are few thank-yous.  No pausing between opening to admire what's been received.  Just a wild dash to see what's there.  I'm thanking my lucky stars that it'll soon be over.  Presents will be opened.  Obsession with what's inside will ebb.  He'll go back to playing.

Wrong.  Once the presents are open, he's ready for everyone to go home.  There are too many people around, even if they are all the nicest kids and adults I know.  He wants them gone.  Its 2:00.  He's the only one ready for the party to be over.

The next hour is spent trying to convince him to socialize with the nice kids who like his toys and think he's a cool kid.  The other parents tell me that their kids melt down at their parties, too.  They say its his party and he can cry if he wants to.  The kids run around and ignore the six year-old having a temper tantrum about their very presence.

And I just cringe.

We tell him that the party can be over at three.  We finally see everyone out.  Weeks of anticipation for G, hours of prep for us, two hours of trying to convince G that his party is supposed to be fun, and then hours of cleaning and exhaustion for us.  The other attendees were positive about the party.  They like our house, the food was good, the kids had a good time, etc.

3,000 new Legos later, and I'm wondering if I can get away without having a birthday party for him next year.  And feeling like a mediocre mom.