When Good Themes Go Bad

Dirt Cake

Today was the first time I hosted a child's birthday party.  You know, the type that includes games and goody-bags.  I decided to do a 'bug' theme because I've always been fascinated by the 'dirt cakes' I've seen online. 

BUT, in my true Toxic Housewife way, I couldn't possibly have a Bug Party without following the theme all the way through.  AAAALLLL the way through.  And so the decor, the games, and the goody bags had to be Bug Themed Or Nothing Else.  Because, gosh darn it, I'm going for Mother Of The Year.

Yes, I want all the other mothers to enjoy my party.  But I also want them to fear me.


However, what I grew to realize was that there is a fine line between a theme being 'cute' and a theme being 'obnoxious'.  And I crossed that line a long time ago.

Beehive Pinata

This is the Beehive Pinata I saw online and decided to re-create, not only because it's frickin' cute, but because I justified that it would be a fun craft for Mr. C and me to do together.  After 20 minutes of yelling at Mr. C not to wad up the gooey strips of paper past the point of usability, I gave up on our co-crafting and waited until he was napping to finish the pinata.

The really obnoxious part is that I never had any intention of using it: it would be too hard for a bunch of three-year-olds, and I didn't think their parents would appreciate them getting hyped up on loads of raining candy.  But I spent three days making it anyway.

Hand-painted balloons

These are the modified pinatas I decided would be more appropriate for toddlers: balloons filled with confetti and fashioned to look -- of course -- like bees and ladybugs.  To my knowledge, they don't make bee and ladybug balloons, so I HAND PAINTED these two days before the party.  Guess what?  They deflated by the next day.  So, get this, I HAND PAINTED a new set last night, kept them in our temperature-controlled basement, and refused to bring them outside until 20 minutes before the party.

I will admit, though, that the kids loved them.  Probably because they got to whack at the balloons with a stick that had a nail poking through it (because that's the only way our practice-balloons [of course I did practice balloons] would pop).  Surprisingly, despite the fact that I armed toddlers with sharp, tetanus-inducing implements of destruction, there were very few injuries.

We did a craft:

Ladybug Photo Holder Magnet

The kids used their thumbs in ink to put the spots on the ladybugs, then we glued in a freshly-taken photo of the child. That's right: in the middle of my party, I was running into the house to print off pictures.  How neurotic is that?  But I needed those pictures so we could tell the ladybugs apart, because they were then used for the 'Pin the Ladybug on the Leaf' game that came later.  See?  Theme.

We also played a game where the kids used tweezers to pick fake roaches out of the grass and put them in a bug jar.  Mr. C, for his part, adapted by picking up the roaches with his fingers, then transferring them to the tweezers and then into the jar.  I didn't care: it kept him quiet while I printed out pictures.

I spent hours hunting down all the materials for these games, and several more hours cutting out circles and leaves and everything else needed to play them.  Not to mention the hours spent preparing for the 'Insect Headband' craft which I didn't even know if we'd do.  We didn't.

Now here's where it got REALLY obnoxious:

Ladybugs, Bees and Centipedes

Do you know how long it took to make up six plates of this stuff?  And the kids couldn't tell they were anything but tomatoes and cheese.  So -- really -- what was the point?

You know, I'm striving to be the kind of mom who the other moms like (and, OK, are a teeny bit jealous of) because she's fun, put together, and just plain cool.

But, although the other parents verbally exhibited an appropriate amount of oohing and aahing and praised the party for all the right reasons, I'm sick of myself and want to tell me to calm down, get a job, and quit trying so hard.

You're looking desperate, idiot.

(note the flowers taped to the fork handles)