One of the most memorable birthday parties I’ve hosted was also one of the easiest and cheapest. Our eldest son was turning five and wanted to invite his whole class. I wasn’t willing to host a party with more than 20 five-year-olds, but I was willing to invite them for a play in our back garden after school.
I made a call: no games, no prizes, no party bags, no banquet. Just an invitation to swing by on their way home from school, hang out and have some cake. I added a firm “no presents please”, so it was easy for the guests as well.
The result was short, and it was sweet. The kids amused themselves, the parents watched while chatting, the birthday boy had a ball. Then – be still my beating heart – they all went home.
No one expected more, so no one was disappointed. The bar was low; stress levels were as well. It wasn’t “the best party ever” – and it wasn’t meant to be. It was good. And good was plenty good enough.
Of course, it could have been simpler still. A handful of friends, or even one. Some don’t do a party every year – how radical! And how reasonable! We might think of this as breaking vital rules, but such rules are mostly self-imposed; we have a choice.
It’s one thing to throw a party because you want to, because it will bring joy to your child, your family and your guests. It’s quite another if you’re driven by rules and expectations you secretly resent, if you’re paying for things you really can’t afford, if the process makes you snappy and stressed out.
Perhaps if we spent more time doing things the way that works for us, our families and our budget, and less time trying to do things the way we think we’re supposed to, we’d be more relaxed, and more sociable.
Sometimes, a bar we’re aiming for makes sense, but sometimes, it’s a result of precedents we perpetuate unthinkingly, or assumptions about others’ expectations that we’ve never sought to question or to test.
Whatever the case, it seems to me we can be a little too diligent when it comes to meeting expectations and not diligent enough when it comes to questioning them.
Will fellow parents really judge us harshly if we do things differently? Will our children really care if their party doesn’t have all the trimmings? If they do, it might disappoint them – and it might build character. It might be an opportunity to direct their gaze from what they want, to what they have.
If parties are all-or-nothing affairs, we might end up throwing them in the too-hard basket; if they’re casual and fun, we might not dread them, we might even enjoy them – which will make guests more likely to as well.
I once received an invitation for a party at a park that asked kids to bring their own drink bottles. It was a great idea – it saved the hosts from buying drinks and made sense from an environmental perspective. I can imagine some parents would worry this would be too much to ask of a “guest”, but why shouldn’t we seek ways to simplify, and share, the load?
Sometimes parents tell their kids to “use their words”. If we’re really worried that bucking a tradition will cause awkwardness or confusion, if we want to do something differently but also want people to know what to expect, we can use our words.
We might be worried the word “party” means we’re obliged to provide lunch, a cake, games and lolly bags. These may well be expected, but expectations can be changed.
“Hey friends! Johnny’s turning five! We’ve decided to go for simple this year. No ‘party’, just a play at the park after lunch. No presents please. xx”
It feels ridiculous to say something so obvious, but also strangely necessary: communicating can change expectations. Our words can engender understanding, dispel awkwardness and confusion, change onerous traditions and make life easier.
We gently teach our kids that they don’t have to do things just because their friends do, that they don’t have to be like everybody else, that if they’re struggling, they need only ask for help. We encourage them to “use their words”. And then we do the opposite ourselves.
By choosing not to meet this or that expectation, I can make my life easier, I can be a more relaxed parent, and I can lower the bar for others. Some parents might judge me, but I’m willing to bet that most will rejoice.
• Emma Wilkins is a Tasmanian journalist and freelance writer
