We're all aware the economy sucks right about now, but no one's feeling the pinch more than the beleaguered kids' party planner. According to ABC News, today's hard times are causing a ginormous scaling-back of celebratory soirees for the younger set.I'm intrigued to see how this birthday-bash-backlash is going to affect parents' plans here on Long Island, where the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality is definitely alive, kicking, and stuffing its gaping maw with Fudgie the Whale cakes.
It's a trickle-down policy we've seen evolve over the years: Wedding celebrations on Lawn Guyland were the first to succumb, with lavish affairs that featured oxymoronic three-hour-long cocktail hours, DJ/band combo packages (because you couldn't have just one), and ice sculptures carved in the shape of Daddy's checkbook scattered throughout the reception hall. Friends from other parts of the country who attended the events we tri-state-area epicureans hosted seemed simultaneously fascinated and horrified at our gluttony.
Next to fall victim to the vices of excess was the Sweet 16. When I was in high school in the '80s, the trendy thing to do for this special coming-of-age was to shellac your hair with three gallons of Aqua Net, squeeze into your Spandex leggings and jelly shoes, and spend four hours humiliating yourself to Expose, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam, and Company B on the dance floor of some nightclub that was trying to make a little extra cash before the college kids came in after sundown. I bucked this trend by having my Sweet 16 on a fishing boat that circumnavigated the Great South Bay in the middle of April, but even that must have cost my parents a pretty penny at the time.
13-year-olds must have felt they were getting a bum rap, because, suddenly, bar/bat mitzvahs were being held at catering venues normally reserved for weddings (and, subsequently, for Sweet 16s), complete with DJs, on-site photographers churning out instant photo mementos for the guests, and the occasional celebrity musical guest -- what signifies puberty more than 50 Cent sneering "In Da Club" while guests dine on kippered salmon and Manischewitz? Fast-forward 10 years or so, and it's easy to see why 5-year-olds here on the Island were having hissy fits if their moms dared to throw a backyard barbecue with Skittles-stuffed paper bags as party favors -- God, who could blame them?!
I admit, I fell prey to the hype in the beginning. My son's first birthday was a "compromise"—we had it in the backyard, but we invited close to 75 people, had it catered, and even featured a bounce tent in case the kids got bored. Yes, all this for a 1-year-old who spent the day trying to eat his binky and break into the house to watch Yo Gabba Gabba.
The next few birthdays veered down a similar superfluous path: the package deal at Wood Kingdom for his entire preschool class; the professional cooking class at a local chef's academy, where 25-plus kids threw flour at each other, heckled the Rachael Ray wannabe-teacher, and complained that the pizzas they so lovingly handcrafted themselves were too hot to eat. This in addition to the birthday party my son got in class at preschool, plus the "small" home party we had just for relatives who happened to live nearby.
I've since wised up somewhat, partly as a result of my long-term unemployment, but also because I started to feel too stressed out and insane from the whole process. I could feel it was becoming too much (the rolling of the eyes and shaking of heads from all four of our parents also expedited my change of heart). For Jackson's fifth birthday, I cut back, though not cold turkey: He still ended up having three parties (hey, I can't control what they do at school), but his "friends" party was held at the local bowling alley, I only invited 10 of his close friends/neighbors' kids (not every kid in his class), and we snuck in enormous cupcakes from Costco instead of ponying up cash for whatever overpriced, mediocre bakery treat the bowling alley would have come up with.
My daughter has gotten gypped even more since our epiphany of excesses: She's never even had a "friends" party, just quiet celebrations at home with immediate family that she seemed to enjoy thoroughly. When we went to Baskin-Robbins to order a birthday cake for her third birthday last year and discovered it was $45 for a character ice-cream cake, we were so flustered that we ordered the cake, went home in shock, then came to our senses and called back to cancel the order. Of course, Baskin-Robbins wouldn't refund our money by that point, but they did give us a store credit. The entire family enjoyed multiple hot-fudge sundaes on our Baskin-Robbins tab all summer long—a much better use of our funds.
Obviously, some other parents are having a hard time cutting back, even in the face of their dwindling checking accounts and IRAs. One of the moms in the ABC article boasts that she eliminated the "full Italian buffet" for her 1-year-old's birthday party, replacing the chicken parm and penne ala vodka with pizza, but in the next breath she confesses to personalized, laminated placemats for partygoers, custom crayon holders in the goodie bags, and a monogrammed bib for the guest of honor.
Spring for the Skittles-filled paper bags, mi'lady -- use the money to buy yourself a nice bottle of wine instead. Read more...
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