Birthday party mayhem marks four incredible years

About a month ago, I had the brilliant idea that I should throw my daughter her first real birthday party. She was turning 4 and I thought, “How hard could it be to invite a few friends over for cake and games?”

Well, one month, 72 cupcakes and one industrial-strength piÑata later, and I’m just about birthday-ed out.

Let’s start at the beginning with “the list.” Talk about politics. Our humble list started out with two or three of my daughter’s best playmates. Oh, but if we invite her then we have to invite that other girl because their moms are friends. And if we invite that one girl from preschool than does that mean we have to invite all 23 kids from school? And I’d love to invite that boy but he has three brothers who I’m sure would also come.

Once we got our list pared down to the final 12, the real party planning began.

We picked our theme of "springtime," which I know is kind of a cop-out theme but the only other option was “princesses” and I was not about to throw a party where it looks like Disney exploded all over my living room.

So we got the essentials: a piÑata, flower pots to paint and a ridiculous amount of hot dogs.

The only trouble was that by the time the party rolled around, I was already kind of done partying. I had already made and taken 36 cupcakes to my daughter’s preschool. I had hosted a family party on her birthday, taken her to a birthday dinner and surprised her with her first “big girl bike.”

At the end of the day I turned to my husband and said, “I can’t believe I still have to throw a birthday party for a dozen 3-year-olds.”

So I was off to make 36 more cupcakes resembling Easter baskets, stuff the piÑata and clean the house. Thanks to a little April rain shower, our springtime party planned for the backyard was moved inside.

But when the party rolled around, I actually enjoyed myself. My daughter was in heaven welcoming her party guests. I did learn a few valuable lessons for next time, though. First, acrylic paint and preschoolers are a bad combination. Second, Wal-Mart piÑatas are nearly indestructible. After a father took a final crack at the bunny piÑata, we still couldn’t bust it open. We ended up breaking a bat in the attempt and finally just ripping the piÑata open with our hands.

When the party was over, I was exhausted and vowed never to frost another cupcake in my life.