It’s My Baby’s Party, and I’ll Cry if I Want To

Image by Jocelyn Tran Photography

I’m up in the middle of the night (like I usually am), since this is the time when I can really focus on completing various tasks. Tonight, I’m searching online for bakeries that will make a Little Blue Truck smash cake and cupcakes for my son. He adores the Little Blue Truck series by Alice Schertle.

As I’m drafting an invitation list and searching for party decorations on Etsy and Target’s websites, I realize that my vision is getting blurry. My eyes begin to well up with warm tears, and they begin to slowly stream down my face… 

The little baby that I brought home from the hospital is growing up, and I realize again that time is a thief.

I’m conflicted because I often wonder who he will grow up to be. Will he be a musician? Will he be an architect? Will he be a writer? Could he even be president? However, the thought of my baby growing up also saddens me. I love holding his tiny hands in mine and kissing his puffy cheeks. His little uncontrollable baby giggles are something that I never want to have slipping through my fingers. They’re my favorite sound in the entire world, and no song could ever possibly compare.

Yes, it’s quite possible that I’m overreacting, and I need to just learn to let go and accept that he has to grow up and go out into the world. Yes, I should enjoy this moment and realize that my baby is still quite young, and I have plenty of time with him. I just don’t know how to accept that this first year with him has completely flown by. I fear that the next seventeen will go by just as quickly, or (even worse) they will go by even faster.

This baby has taught me so much about myself, life, and love, and on the day that he was born, I was given new eyes. Eyes that see out of rose-colored glasses every time I see him, and I never want to lose my sight. Yet, planning this party is forcing me to realize that I’ll have to change how I see things. 

I’ve been told that I’m planning a party that’s a bit extravagant for a one-year-old, and I’ll admit that I am. I think being a little over-the-top (I mean, what else would I expect from myself?) is my way of saying goodbye to being a mom to new baby. I’m hardly the first mother to experience watching her baby turn one, and then watching her child grow up into an adult. This is certainly not a unique experience. However, I’m definitely feeling my feelings, and I want his party to be special, even if he likely won’t remember any of it. 

He’ll have his party at the Columbia Marionette Theatre, and he’ll be surrounded by the people that love him and want to celebrate him. I hope he knows how loved he is. I hope he always knows how much I’ll always love him, no matter how old he is. I hope he grins from ear to ear the entire time, enjoys his smash cake, and giggles constantly…. It is my favorite sound. 

He might be growing up, but he’ll forever be my sweet baby.


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