Birthday Burnout

My daughters are almost exactly two years apart in age-in fact, there are only two days between their birthdays. Which means that either they are going to have joint parties for most of their childhood or I am always going to go crazy the first week of May. I love kids' parties. I love birthdays. I love putting them together and, while most people groan and roll their eyes, I am amped up long before the sugar consumption sets in. Uninhibited dancing! Magicians! Arts & crafts! Puppets! Snacks galore! Adult parties seem stale by comparison. And while I'd rather have my face painting done at Barney's, you'll be hard-pressed to find a good grown-up party where you can arrive barefoot and drink a beer or hold a boa constrictor in one hand and a glass of wine in another. But this year-which, mind you, is THE FIRST birthday for the baby-I was too tired to throw a "real" party for either of my girls. Our home has been under siege by viral infections for the last three months (the girls split at least seven between them); one of our dearest friends was getting married the same week as the birthday blitz; and I had a major work deadline. Even as I outline my reasons, I feel a nagging tug of guilt that I am a lame-ass mom for not getting my act together. Oh, well. I took cupcakes to preschool for my 3-year-old's birthday (from the grocery store, too, I couldn't even be bothered to make cupcakes) and my husband brought his guitar and sang songs with her class. She got to sit in the birthday chair and then we painted birdhouses. Then she had a play date with her two closest friends after school, another round of cupcakes (this time with ice cream), our LA family came over and we ordered pizza for dinner. And while you won't see any of it on Pinterest, it was perfect. For the baby, two days later, I downsized even more: just the four of us. I made carrot muffins with her in my arms that morning and we stuck a candle in one. Her big sister opened all her presents and we took some cute pictures of her wearing a birthday hat (her sister's, btw). Then, my brand-new one-year-old passed out for three hours. I went down with her for my own nap. Now that's a party. Want to throw your own nap party? Let us Rockabye your baby to a very happy Z-day with lullaby renditions of songs from some of your favorite artists.