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Parenting
The Chaos of Party Favors and Thank You Notes
by Jenna Brooks
Updated: Sep. 21, 2017
Originally Published: March 5, 2015
If you’ve ever found yourself putting together 25 party favors for your child’s birthday or watched your eight-year-old suffer through a hand cramp while writing the same two lines on 25 different thank-you notes, then you likely understand that irrational urge that often comes with these mundane tasks: the overwhelming desire to slam your head in a door. Repeatedly.
Ah, those pesky party favors and thank-you notes. Why do we willingly subject ourselves to this madness?
Here’s my theory: there exists a clandestine society of overachieving moms whose goal is to make everyday parenting feel like an insurmountable challenge by creating ridiculous social expectations that no sane person could meet without substantial amounts of caffeine and perhaps a little adrenaline. This exclusive club is likely funded by Hallmark and that toy company responsible for tiny parachuting army men (the ones that get tangled the moment your child plays with them and have to be tossed out while your kid cries).
This secretive group probably goes by the tongue-twisting name of “The Committee for Establishing Social Expectations to Subjugate Ordinary Motherhood” (because simplicity is overrated). They refer to themselves as “The Social Expectations Committee” for short.
Ordinary moms, of course, are not welcome at these meetings, which is why outlandish ideas like party favors and thank-you notes always pass the vote. If a few regular moms managed to sneak into one of these gatherings, here’s how it would go down:
One brave mom would stand up, knock over a folding chair, and exclaim, “Are you telling me that after I shell out 150 bucks for a grass-destroying bounce house, I also have to spend another $50 on junk for each kid?!” The committee members would exchange nervous glances and reply, “Uh, well, how else are we supposed to make the other moms feel like failures?” Their facade would be cracking because they wouldn’t realize that real moms had infiltrated. The ordinary mom would then say, “But what if I’ve already spent a ton of time cleaning and decorating my home while entertaining guests? Isn’t that enough?”
At this point, the committee would start to panic, realizing that real committee members don’t use terms like “ton of time.” They’d hastily call for a vote on party favors, trying to avoid chaos. “All in favor?” someone would declare, and all but the ordinary moms would raise their hands delicately. Meanwhile, the ordinary moms would shout, “I refuse to support this nonsense!”
Things would spiral out of control as the ordinary moms lose their cool and put committee members in headlocks until they agree to eliminate party favors from the agenda. Of course, committee security would arrive just in time to escort the ordinary moms out, citing a new rule against headlocks during meetings (which they had no idea about).
What a pity, because that would mean missing the discussion on thank-you notes. But had they been allowed to stay, they would’ve shouted, “Do you not care about the planet? Or is it just trees you despise? Because I can’t think of a more foolish use of paper than making cards that will be tossed the second they’re read!” By this point, folding chairs would be flying, and security would be tasering moms left and right, indifferent to membership status. The chaos caused by the ordinary moms would leave the “Committee for Establishing Social Expectations to Subjugate Ordinary Motherhood” in absolute disarray, making it unlikely they would ever dare to meet again.
Hooray! Ordinary moms win!
Except, sadly, they don’t. This scenario is merely a delightful fantasy. Regular moms aren’t invited to these secretive meetings where life-altering decisions are made behind closed doors.
But here we are now, right? Let’s join forces. Alone, we may feel powerless, but together, we can bring about change. It’s high time we assert our collective determination to dismantle the absurd social expectations that have quietly invaded our cherished celebrations.
From this day forward, I declare: I will never again assemble another party favor or force my child to write out 25 thank-you notes! Instead, I’ll rent an epic bounce house, whip up the most scrumptious strawberry cupcakes you’ve ever tasted (yes, they’re from Betty Crocker, but who’s judging?), order ten pizzas, and entertain your child for a few hours. And when you return from your well-deserved break, I’ll greet you with a genuine, no-nonsense hug, and you’ll get a heartfelt “thank you” from both me and my kid.
And because you’re an ordinary mom too, you’ll smile and say, “No, sweetie. Thank you!”
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In summary, let’s unite against the needless pressure of party favors and thank-you cards. We deserve to celebrate in a way that feels authentic and joyful, without the excessive fuss.