Planning and (Almost) Executing the Perfect Twin 1st Birthday

Most parents are eager to go to extremes to make their children's birthdays fun and memorable. Even when the kids are under five, a time when most of the extravagance is lost on their young minds and tissue paper and boxes are the true hit for them, we find ourselves going overboard with the birthday festivities. Is it for the photo op, something you can share with them when they're older so they can look back and think fondly of how much thought and effort their folks put into making their parties fun? That kind of appreciative retrospect doesn't hit until they're in their late twenties, if even then. I've concluded that we do it as much for ourselves as for our kids, and that planning and executing the perfect party is, for us, waxing nostalgic on birthdays we wished we'd had - or at least improving upon them. One-upping our own parents, if you will. And boy, did we ever!

When you're operating as a stay-at-home mom in a family of five on one income, your purse strings are cinched and your budget is very thin. I felt inspired on what I wanted to do for my twin daughters first birthday, but clueless on where to begin. Pinterest had some good ideas for DIY party planning, and Etsy had some great deals on props and outfits. I've never been the crafty sort, but this time I schooled myself hard on some of this DIY stuff, and enlisted the help of my best friend who is the Crafting Mogul Extraordinaire. Together, we pulled off a pretty awesome Twin Girl 1st Birthday, even though the circumstances ultimately ended up working against us.

Our theme was Fairy Princess, and in a perfect world where dad's wallet was a bottomless money pit, I would have opted for the freshest, most beautiful floral arrangements money could buy. I wanted there to be pretty flowers strewn about as far as they eye could see, and even silk flowers are expensive, so we opted to make coffee filter paper flowers. I'd love to credit the exact tutorial I found to do these, but I ended up using several different methods from several different tutorials and the truth of it is - I never bookmarked them. So I'll attempt to recreate the tutorial from memory as best as I can.

I used several packs of both small and large coffee filters, which you can snag at a Dollar Tree store, which I did - but I also had awesome friends who just happened to become ex-coffee-drinkers and just happened to have filters stockpiled. For the dye, I used several (extremely old) packets of Kool-Aid that I found stowed away in our pantry. Scotch tape and staples were the only other extra expense. Like I said, I wanted TONS of flowers, so I knew this was going to be a long, drawn-out undertaking. I needed to do these in bulk, and in my spare time, which is sparse at best.

I dyed the filters in the sink, because it can get pretty messy. The first night I failed to wear gloves so my fingernails and cuticles were several different ugly shades for a day or two. Doh! I'd add the kool-aid to a bowl and mix with water, submerse the filters until they reached the desired color, and then wring them out until they were only barely damp. Coffee filters are RESILIENT! The good part about using kool-aid instead of dye is that they smelled like strawberry, grape, blueberry and lemon-lime:

Then it was time to lay them out to dry. They were literally strewn everywhere until I finally figured out that sticking the damp colored filters in the clothes dryer would shave off many hours of wait time. This wasn't included in the original tutorial, but this improvisation gave an awesome effect by making the filters crinkle up and become less stiff and more pliable. 

The most labor intensive part of the whole ordeal was flattening out a HUGE mound of coffee filters so they could be sorted and pressed. It doesn't look like it, but there's at least 900 coffee filters here:

The sorting of colors, then the pressing them in a stack of books to rid of dryer wrinkles. Others may iron them out, but seriously - who has time for that? The pressing left just enough fine creases to make the flowers look real.

The folding was a bit cumbersome and I'll admit that the first twenty or so looked kind of pitiful until I got the technique down pat, but this craft was well worth the time and effort! After the filters dried, six were stacked evenly, folded in half, then in half again. The edges were scalloped with scissors while all folded up. They were unfolded, and dented in the center until I had a "grabbable" stem to hold onto. I scotch-taped the stems to make them more stiff. Then I just scrunched up each layer of filter until the flower shape was achieved. 

I had TONS of colored shreds of filters leftover, and frugality can sometimes lead to invention. I decided to save the shreds and was glad that I did! I ended up using them inside the clear vases I used for the DIY cupcake tier. It matched the flowers perfectly since they were literally cut from the same stock. If you make coffee filter flowers - save those shreds! I thought of a thousand other uses for them.

 We had pink, purple, white, tie-dyed colors and a few light blue flowers strewn everywhere! After they were dyed, dried, sorted and pressed, I'd often take a few stacks in the bedroom with me at night and fold flowers in bed while watching television with my husband. I was pretty proud of these little gems!

A few more homemade decorations were made, like these cardboard circles I'd planned on using behind their high chairs. Markers, stickers and poster-board petals, which hadn't been glued yet:

My BFF Tracy helped me make such an awesome homemade cupcake tier using plastic platters and clear vases from the Dollar Tree. Some of THE BEST cupcakes prepared and decorated by said bestie made for an awesome table arrangement. I made pink Jello in plastic wine glasses leftover from our wedding. The *Smash* cupcakes were HUGE and intricately frosted. A plastic tablecloth was tied as a valance from two doorways. The result was a very nice birthday table! I found a few leftover dyed coffee filter circles hiding in a book and since they hadn't been cut, we used them as doilies underneath the silver Dollar Tree platters.

The balloons were up. The cutesie little princess tutu outfits were steamed. The little crocheted barefoot sandals with pearl buttons and floral embellishments were set aside. We were ready to throw the biggest, bestest twin birthday party EVER! *cue doom music*

...The morning of the party, our little Samantha woke up with 104° fever and cried non-stop. We tried bringing the fever down with children's Tylenol, but the mercury never budged. We ended up taking her to the emergency room after family (and some friends) had arrived bearing gifts and ready to party. With a "show must go on" determination, we left bestie Tracy in charge, notified the rest of the invited guests, and dressed sister Sophia in her party outfit. Luckily the viral infection Samantha had was relatively short lived, but it was a stark reminder of how no matter how much time, effort and preparation you put into a party - be ready to initiate a PLAN B to fall back on when the unthinkable happens.

Sophia shined that day, but she was acutely aware of her sister being absent for most of the party. Although we were relieved that Samantha's condition was going to improve and we were able to bring her home, it was weird seeing Sophia all dolled up without her sister by her side.

When Samantha returned from the E.R., she was in no mood to party. She just wanted to whimper and lay her head on someone's chest. She was a trooper as she watched her sister open their collective presents.

The next day, her fever was gone and Samantha was on the mend. We'd left all the decorations in place. We dressed her up and let her celebrate her 1st birthday with her twin sister, who naturally came down with the same virus several days later. It was great seeing them celebrate together even though it wasn't at the actual party! And who can resist photo ops in matching tutus?

SMASH-CAKE TIME. You're never too sick to smear frosting on your sister and enjoy some Jello "champagne"!

I'm not saying I'll never spend weeks preparing for another one of my kid's birthdays. I'll just be less shocked when it goes awry and we have to resort to a contingency plan. The most invaluable asset we had was a really good friend who was able to orchestrate things in the event of Mom & Dad's unexpected absence. It also helps that this friend is an excellent baker, can decorate cakes like a woman possessed, and crafts like a mother, too. Every mom of multiples needs a Tracy in their life!

18-24 Months: The Litmus Test of Parenting

The quixotic, well-intentioned ambitions of an inexperienced new mother knows absolutely no bounds. The preparation, the planning, the laying out of what you think is going to be a solid foundation to start from - it consumes you while your child is in utero. You worry about how difficult it's going to be, this mothering business. You fret over whether or not you'll always be up to the task, and how good you'll be at not just meeting your child's every need, but helping him thrive from infanthood to adulthood in a manner that would make him look back on his own childhood and think: My mom had it going ON! You unknowingly mistake your naïve aspirations towards perfection as a sign of being a responsible parent-to-be, even though you have no way of knowing how up-to-the-task you already are from an evolutionary standpoint. Being a child-bearing female equips you with more know-how, intuition and mothering capabilities than you ever thought you possessed. It just doesn't ever prepare you for how difficult it gets when your precious little darling turns into a hot-headed little firecracker during the toddler years.

When I was pregnant with my son, I did a lot of future planning and had many projections for how we were going to spend his early formative years together. Drunk with love, high on hormones, intoxicated by the intuitive mothering pull towards my unborn baby - it was easy to convince myself that I had my whole new-parent plan already mapped out and set in stone ... even though I'd only had two ultrasounds and hadn't quite crossed that third trimester mark yet. I was absolutely terrified of other people's newborns, yet strangely had such overwhelming feelings of familiarity with the life growing inside me, I was confident and certain that I wouldn't run scared as soon as he was born and put into my care. I spent a great deal of time sitting in his unfinished nursery, carefully calibrating and fine-tuning how I was going to react and respond to just about every single need that my infant could possibly manifest. I knew how I wanted to nurture him, how I wanted to shower my love onto him, and how I'd do everything in my power to make sure his environment was happy, safe and secure. I had no idea how easy and natural that part was going to be, especially the first year. But until you've had to pry off a sweaty, screaming toddler mid-tantrum from your pants leg, you have no idea how challenging your role will be going into that second year. You get tested, and retested, and then when you think you know what to expect out of them, they throw you for a loop and redefine the art of being bad.

It's worth looking back at my misconceptions and laughing now, especially since I got the pleasure of three babies in under two years. Clearly, I focused too much on how to take care of an infant, and didn't invest enough time strategizing how I'd have to learn to compromise with a toddler. Granted, the newborn stage isn't a complete cakewalk. There's several weeks of sleepless nights due to their incessant every-two-hour feeding marathons, coupled with the urge to check in on them when they finally do sleep for a decent stretch to make sure their breathing is normal. But seriously - aside from making sure they have full bellies, dry diapers and adequate sleep (often at the expense of your own zzzzz's) ... newborns are relatively easy. My son was a new mother's dream: Never cried unless he was hungry, smiled at you just for meeting his gaze, sat still in his little bouncer seat and charmed anyone who had the good fortune of walking in the room and becoming acquainted with him. The twins have proved to be a little more high-maintenance (they're girls, what did you expect?), but all in all, they aren't much trouble right now, either. You'll notice the subtlety in which I don't project any farther into the future with them. Let's just say my lessons have been learned ever since my toddler son put his doting mother through a grueling six-month course I affectionately refer to as Handle It School.

What I'd like to know now, is ... Where did my sweet, docile baby boy GO? Once the 18th month hit, he morphed into an opinionated little rebel-rouser with the short temper of a rattlesnake and a set of lungs that, turned up full volume, could rival the shrill pitch of a police siren. I toss around the phrase "opinionated" as if the little fella can actually speak in cohesive sentences and express himself outside of the toddler vernacular of "mo" (more), "no" (his answer to every question) and "mine" (which applies to his things, things that aren't his yet, but are about to be, and every other thing in his immediate radius), but I assure you - the little boy is quick to elaborate on how entitled he is to his opinion, and he's not afraid to act it out for us, lest we be unaware. Sometimes these opinions are expressed through body language, such as the arched back/head thrown towards floor sentiment that really means HELL NO, I WON'T GO. Then there's the more complex theatrics that illustrates his aversion towards taking medicine, which is his rendition of a lockjaw-patient-shape-shifting-into-a-snapping-turtle. There's also the wordless miming of raising one eyebrow (how does he do that? I'm envious) that clearly communicates to whoever is trying to get him to eat that one more bite of food that they're going to be wearing that spoonful if he has his way about it. Naptime really brings out the thespian in him, and he has about fourteen different soldiering personas for fighting sleep. Those range from the noiseless, sneaky belly-crawl out of bed to the incessant chattering that he belts out at the most ridiculously loudest decibel imaginable, all because he's realized that the one thing I can't put an absolute stop to is the range of noise he can emit from his vocal chords.

I think back to the newborn to first year period with him: The joy of seeing him hold his bottle for the first time. The clumsy little bowlegged, tippy-toed walk he first attempted. The glee we'd all share in when he'd patty-cake his little hands, or how we'd all laugh and think it was cute when he unceremoniously tossed his sippy cup to the side when he finished his drink. Then it abruptly ended, and although the cuteness lingered and the smiles and joy never dissipated, a new level of disobedience gave rise in that boy, and so help me - there's days when I wonder if someone came into our home and reprogrammed him with a bunch of insolence software. I realize that most boys are rambunctious, and perhaps some of the fire that kid has comes from the bullheadedness he inherited from his 'rents, but some days I'm certain that the fabled "Terrible Twos" is just a diversionary tactic used to blindside mommies and daddies when they're feeling comfortable with the fact that there's still a good six months or so before that kind of behavior is due. It sneaks up on vulnerable newbie parents and we're left stunned, unable to render any kind of authoritarian role over them because we still consider them our sweet, cuddly little angels of innocence. All it really takes to snap you back into reality is having a nearly-full sippy cup hurled at you from a distance of about six feet. It's the knowledge that sinks in when you realize that they meant to do it, when out of the corner of your eye, you see them triumphantly grinning because they know their cup connected with your face. Sure, you correct them for the offense. You forgive them easily, because that's what good, loving mothers do. You go on about your day, trying to act like it didn't rattle you much, even though your left cheekbone hurts like hell.

I never got the humor behind the incredibly popular ReasonsMySonIsCrying website, and used to think to myself: Why on earth do people find it funny that their children are feeling anguish? I also never understood why they'd take photos of their kid's throwing fits, until mine started doing it. They happen so spontaneously that it becomes dangerously entertaining, kind of like watching a funnel cloud turn into a tornado. You know the shit is about to hit the fan, you'd be well-advised to hunker down, 'cause it's about to be Get Your MommyPants On time where you have to deal maturely with the situation. It's just that they happen so randomly, and so often, that you know how to discern actual anguish from just a routine meltdown that can be quickly tuned down by a simple distraction like whistling, or holding them in a bear hug and covering them with kisses (ooooh, but he hates that when he's mad!). Sometimes you've just got to enjoy the fireworks - even though you know it's about to set the yard ablaze. I believe in letting my son express his frustrations, and I never want him to feel like he has to hold anything inside, as I believe that can pave the way for some communication barriers in the future. I fully realize that there will be a time when he can express his feelings without falling on the floor and venting red-faced rage, but right now, this is the best he can do.

I don't believe it's healthy to laugh at your children for any reason, because you certainly don't want them left feeling taunted, or belittled in any way. But after going through the whole "mommy understands you are mad" routine, let them know how silly they looked while  throwing a tantrum. It gets my son EVERY time. I urge you to try it! After the situation has been diffused and your child has calmed down, throw yourself on the floor and start spazzing out like they did, complete with the noise and the flapping of hands/kicking of feet. This cracks my son up, and the laughter is contagious, and before you know it, we're both acting ridiculous. He forgets that he thought the world was ending five minutes ago when I wouldn't let him bludgeon the T.V. with the pointy end of his stick horse, and I forget that my precious little boy looked upon me with a homicidal glare when I took away the stick horse his Poppa gave him.

I'm learning lots of valuable lessons with my son that I hope I will be able to apply when his twin sisters hit their Mean Toddler phase, knowing full well that it's going to be a whole other ballgame due to the fact that 1) there's TWO of them, and 2) girls are, by design - more difficult than boys. However, I think it's important that I've nearly completed this first "test" as a new parent and still have (most of) my marbles intact. I have concluded that if you get through the sometimes scary, sometimes maddening, oftentimes nerve-fraying 18-24 month period, the rest of it is just a long string of happy discoveries, new accomplishments, artsy little macaroni plates, and other such whimsy. If you manage to make it through without tearing your hair out (most of it will fall out anyway), your parenting skills will have reached a critical mass that will render you capable to deal with anything parenthood has to throw at you, and most importantly - you'll do it effectively, efficiently, and with a honed sense of humor that will keep you from crumbling.