‘I don’t think I’ve mentally or socially recovered’: Mel Buttle’s disastrous first birthday for son

After cracking a beer and mentally checking out of being a dutiful host for her son’s first birthday celebrations, Mel Buttle has come to a very clear realisation about why parents even go to the trouble to host them in the first place.

First birthdays are as much about documenting photo evidence as anything else.

Harry’s first birthday wasn’t anything to do with him, it was a celebration of us surviving the year as parents.

It was a party for the time he had gastro, for the morning that he threw the TV remote in the toilet and a celebration of surviving the time he drew all over the garage door with a highlighter.

Don’t worry, he enjoyed himself too, he got a piece of cake which he mashed into his hair, I got to drink before 5pm, and everyone went to bed happy if not a bit sticky.

It was a huge day, as even though you’re hosting a party, and managing a one-year-old, your guests still have needs and wants that you must attend to.

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“There’s dog poo out by the pool,” said our friend, reporting in from the field back to me in the kitchen. I stepped down from my post to attend to the dog issue.

I was nearly back in the kitchen, ready to get the hot savouries into the oven, when a tweenager emerged from my bedroom to ask what the Wi-Fi password is. I was about to slide the tray of sausie rolls and curry puffs into the oven when someone asked if the kids are allowed to swim in the pool yet.

It was at that point I decided that being a domestic goddess isn’t for me, I cracked a beer and mentally checked out of being a dutiful host. I’d tried though, believe me I’d given it a crack.

I’d made sandwich platters, my own sausage rolls, I’d decanted tomato sauce into tiny bowls, I’d even made those toddler party biscuits, Milk Arrowroots slathered in icing with faces made from lollies.

I’d done the unthinkable and under catered. I should’ve known better – every time we had people over, while Mum was getting the groceries for the big event, she’d throw multiple garlic breads into the trolley and say, “I’d rather have too much, than not enough.” I’d broken the hallowed Mum code, I didn’t have enough.

I realised I was in a pickle when the four large bowls of potato chips I’d put out were gone in a matter of seconds.

Mel Buttle

Then, close behind them, the three large sandwich platters were inhaled as soon as they hit the Chelsea Football Club themed table. Let’s be honest: it’s one of those depressing white plastic tables from Bunnings, covered in Astroturf.

Never again, I muttered to myself as I slid my credit card out of my pocket, handed it to a trusted friend and gave her the instruction to “order as many pizzas as you think it will take to keep these people happy”.

I can pinpoint the error that led to this horrible outcome. I wrote in the Facebook event: “You’re welcome to bring your partners and kids along.” An experienced domestic goddesses would never make such a flagrant misstep.

So, as you can probably imagine, I’m now a little gun-shy about throwing him a second birthday party. I don’t think I’ve mentally, or socially recovered from the disaster that was last year’s attempt.

Let’s be real here for a moment. I don’t think he needs a party. Also, this might be the last time we can get away with not doing something, so why not put our feet up while we can?

The other issue is he doesn’t exactly have a wide social circle to extend an invite to, he has one friend, Jorge, that’s it.

So why don’t we save ourselves the hassle, and just invite Jorge over? Slap a party hat on them, bang two candles in a Coles mud-cake, and there you go, that’s your party. kid.

More experienced parents have suggested the key here is not whether to party or not to party, but to ensure there’s photo evidence to combat the future accusations of, “I never had birthday parties when I was little”.

Cameras at the ready it is then. I’ll snap away at Harry like a paparazzo to deal with such future conflicts.

“Harry, you had lots of parties when you were little. Look, here’s you in a party hat with Jorge – we threw you a huge cleaning-the-highlighter-off-the-garage-themed party.”