Happy birthday, baby!
The cops shut down my 4-year-old’s backyard party
My LinkedIn may not list “party planner” as a notable skill, but I’ve planned dozens and dozens of highly successful, injury-free kids parties and feel like something of a pro.
I remember a 6th-birthday party in our two-bedroom apartment in D.C. Of course, we invited the entire grade, which meant more than 40 kids crammed into our living room. The main activity was — wait for it — a mean game of Simon Sez. This was the actual entertainment selected by the birthday girl. Led by my merciless older brother, Rick, it quickly transformed from happy little party game to a hilarious competitive death match. The guest of honor was called out in an early round. No birthday privilege. This was serious.
When they saw the game wasn’t rigged, the fiercest classmates locked in and played to win. My brother delivered, keeping up the pace, joking with the crowd, mocking and arguing with the 6-year-olds who dared to object to his calls. The gang got whittled down, until at last one was declared the winner. I remember the look on Isaac’s face as the great Simon himself held his hand high and spun him around to roaring applause.
Rick turned to me to hand over the prize. Prize? What prize? I had shopped for ice cream and cake and tchotchke-filled goodie bags, but hadn’t thought about a trophy for living-room Olympics. I grabbed my husband’s wallet, pulled out his emergency $10 bill, and handed it over. I’ve seen actual Olympians who were less excited for the gold. I heard that kid ended up at Wharton. I like to think I gave him his start.
By the next fall, we had moved to New Jersey. Newly equipped with a deck and a yard, we decided to combine the 4th and 7th birthdays of our fall-born girls with an open house for our new neighbors. While signing up for Mommy & Me classes, I met a mom with teens who had a band, and sight unseen, sound unheard, hired them as entertainment. More cake, more goody bags, and a borrowed bouncy house completed the kids festivities, and my mother-in-law and I cooked Mexican food for the adults while we tried to shift all our still-packed moving boxes off the first floor. I invited the kids’ classes, plus their parents, and hand-delivered paper invitations (remember those?) to everyone on my block and the block behind us, plus whoever I had met in shul or supermarket.
We were blessed with perfect weather, and by early afternoon the band was jamming and strangers were pouring through the house and into the yard. The teen musicians turned out to be incredibly talented, with a repertoire of classic rock perfect for the parents. I remember two neighbors, a rabbi and a cardiologist, shredding air guitar to some long Zeppelin instrumentals. We tried to keep a cap on the number of kids bouncing at once to keep our injury-free record going, and otherwise just enjoyed the chaos, the music, and the sunshine, meeting many new friends who are now our old friends.
Around 3 p.m., a pair of Officers of the Peace wandered into the backyard, looking a bit sheepish and perplexed. I offered them a cool drink and invited them to help themselves to guacamole or cake. No thanks, ma’am, we’re here because we got a complaint. A complaint for a kids’ backyard party? Apparently, this is how one of our invited neighbors chose to RSVP. Apparently, our friendly neighbor wasn’t a classic rock fan, and asked the police to fire the band. We pointed out that it was midafternoon and they were literally shutting down a kids birthday party before the carpools came to take them home.
The police agreed to let us finish out the hour since we had paid the musicians. And right on time, they showed up to make sure we kept our word. My husband and I had to chuckle; after our nerdy school years never led us to attend, much less host, a party that got shut down by the cops; here we were in middle age finally hitting that milestone of coolness. I hope my 4-year-old appreciated how hip that made her!
Another life-changing birthday party occurred a couple years later, when one kid turned 7 just after another baby was born. We wanted our big girl to feel extra special and decided to upgrade from our standard by renting a pony. The trainer showed up with a surprise bonus — two horsies! As the girls took turns riding around our yard, which takes about 22 seconds to cross on horseback, I sat inside nursing my newborn next to my 90-year-old Nana, who had only recently stopped working and moved in with my parents.
Nana had come for the big girl’s party, but became completely captivated with the baby, murmuring, “It’s so nice to finally have a little baby in the family.” Finally? The baby was my fifth and also my Nana’s 12th great-grandchild — and where did she think all these big kids had come from? Previously, though, she was running a pharmacy and busy with her own life. This baby came after a loss and a move.
Nana asked to hold her and never stopped for the next few years, choosing to live with us so she could watch that baby grow day to day. They became best friends. What a fantastic birthday present! Seventeen years later, the baby is still bringing new gifts, attracting amazing people deeper into our lives.
Happy birthday, baby!
Laura (Lori) Fein of Teaneck is a litigator at Eckert Seamans LLC. She is the daughter of the greatest mom ever, who she hopes is reading this, and the mom to five daughters who probably never will. Her podcast, Mommash: The Oy and Joy of Family, is available on all platforms, and she can be reached at mommash.podcast@gmail.com.
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