Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
Time is everything
Once upon a time, on a hot, sultry summer evening, a young couple decided to try to have a baby. No sooner did they make the decision, shake hands on it, than said baby's arrival was imminent. April showers would also bring their little bundle of joy.
Skip ahead 15 months. On a hot, sultry summer evening, the same couple decides their toddling little girl really ought to have a playmate, and no sooner did they make the decision, shake hands on it, than said playmate's arrival was imminent. April showers would be flooding their household with baby birthdays.
Where, oh where, was the fairy godmother that was needed to give that couple's heads a proverbial smack upside? What were they thinking? Two babies, two girls no less, two years minus one day apart. Oh sure, seemed like big fun at the time. They'd be so cute, they could share birthdays, they could have one big party for both girls and not have to go through the hassle and heartache other parents went through for multiple birthdays spaced throughout the entire year. The couple was sure it would all work out just fine, in all it's princess pink tulle finery-ish best.
Skip ahead 10 years.
The couple slumps against one another, looking at the calendar in front of them. April looms again like a giant mountain, with the 17th and 19th being the summit that must be worked toward, planned for, and eventually defeated. Except this year, it is not just these two dates that strike fear into their hearts. There are two more. The 24th and 25th have now been added, making Doomsday a four-day event.
You see, the birthdays of these two lovely girls fall on the first dates given here. One of them is a Saturday – a perfect birthday day. Have a party, everyone is together, sheer birthday bliss. The couple can fall onto the sofa at the end of the day and drink champagne, toasting themselves on their cleverness and superiority. Instead, God has reached His mighty hand down and chosen to deliver the smack that the fairy godmother neglected to give so long ago.
They. The babies. The Pink Ones don't want a joint party. They're all grown up now (because 10 and 8 is so grown up) and want to do their own thing.
The days of the joint party are over. Happiness can still abound though, can it not? Surely one can have her party on the day of her actual birthday, and the other, whose birthday is on a Monday, a day not well-suited for 10-year old sleepovers, can have hers the following weekend?
Enter God's smack. No, the soon-to-be eight-year old wants to go horseback riding, but wouldn't you know it, the stable she rides out of is not available that particular Saturday, but the 24th would be just fine. And the soon-to-be 10-year old has a meltdown that puts her four-year old sister's tantrums to shame, refusing to budge on HER previously agreed upon date for HER sleepover. The couple, reluctant to move her date to the following weekend, making three weekends in a row usurped by birthday festivities, grasps each other tightly and agrees that they can survive a weekend with two birthday parties back-to-back. Start the first party mid-morning on the Saturday, take a bunch of giggling girls to hang out with horses for three hours, bring them home, feed them, fill them with yummy cake, send them home, change the tablecloth, run a vacuum over the floor, down a 26er, and stand cheerily at the door to welcome in the next group of giggling girls.
Take said group of girls to fancy restaurant for dinner, have yummy cake there, bring them home, spend a sleepless night as they talk and giggle just up the hall, and take them all swimming the next day. Birthday girl's wishes, must follow through.
The couple realizes that this is how it has to be. Each of their precious daughters, no matter if their birthdays were on the same day, deserves to have something that is unique to her, special for her, and celebrate it with her own friends. That the days of one princess cake fits all are over. That that horrible cliché exits for a reason – time does, indeed, pass too quickly and they do grow up fast.
So the couple will somehow survive the weekend. They will watch their girls enjoy themselves and work hard to give them wonderful memories. They will still drink that champagne on the sofa on the Sunday evening, high-fiving one another that they managed to make it through. And silently congratulating themselves that they don't have to do it again until December. Because wouldn't a baby at Christmastime be wonderful?...
