Birthday party

After hosting a huge blowout party in our Park Slope apartment for Benjamin’s first birthday, I swore we would never have another kid party at our house again. That party was ridiculous. We pretty much invited everyone we knew who had a child of any age. So there were a zillion toddlers drooling everywhere while their parents guzzled beers and pretended that the terrible two year old at their feet devouring cat food wasn’t theirs.

Since then we have thrown many large birthday parties for Ben - outside our home. I like selecting the perfect invitations and making Tom come up with catchy poems. Themes are fun to work with and I’ve spent far too many hours shopping online for the ideal favor. We threw Ben’s last big party was when he turned eight – in second grade.  Now that he’s nine, we’ve downsized and he‘s only allowed to invite a few friends to go off and do something fun.

Sam had large parties with great invites and fun birthday cakes for years too. But when we were prepping for his sixth birthday he proclaimed that he was done with large parties. He wanted to have a few boys over to play video games. And that’s it. I tried to talk him out of it. I suggested going to an arcade to play video games. I tried to lure him into having a gymnastics party because he would get to bounce. I offered up a basketball party with his favorite coach. But there was no enticing him. He wanted it small, simple and at home. Nothing about this appealed to me but as you know, saying no to Sam is not easy for me and I gave in. He had five or six boys over and they had a blast. He asked for a repeat the following year.

I assumed we would be doing the same thing for his eighth and final birthday party. But I was wrong. Sam announced that he wanted a Mr. Kae party at the Y. Who’s Mr. Kae, you ask? Only the world’s best PE teacher. The kids at Sam’s school worship him like he’s the kid whisperer. Sam decided to invite his entire class - girls included.

The final countdown commenced a week prior to the party.  Each morning he woke up and announced how many days left till the festivities begun. Throughout the day he emitted little bursts of joy as he realized it was getting closer. I thought I knew Sam but I never could have predicted he would be this excited about anything. 

What usually makes him happy? All he wants to do is stay home. He wants to hang out with us - with no other kids around. And he wants to play video games. A lot of video games. This party included none of these things and he was the happiest I have ever seen him.  Brain Balance doesn’t get credit for his choice of party (since he wasn’t going there then) but I do think it impacted his attitude both in the days leading up to and at the party. It’s truly impossible to discern what Sam would be like today if he wasn’t going to Brain Balance. But the kid I was counting down with each morning was not the kid I was used to.

So, on to the party. It was a hit. He was happy. He participated in every game. He talked to all the kids. He loved being the center of attention.  The other kids had fun too. Mr. Kae was phenomenal. The pizza arrived on time. Sam didn’t seem to notice that he was the only one with a peanut butter sandwich. The guests all devoured the dairy free cupcakes without a complaint. I didn’t get a headache.  A total and complete success.

The old Sam decided to stop by the party for about five minutes. The music was loud and had been for a while. The kids were all running in different directions and the screaming was endless. Sam stood in the center of it all talking to him self. He was spinning and unable to focus. He moved his hands in weird ways and just basically looked lost.  His party was true sensory overload and right then I think he must have hit full and tipped. But just for five minutes. Then he got it under control and sent the old Sam home. The new Sam rejoined the party and was able to jump right back in. He resumed following directions, laughing and connecting with his friends. The party was 90 minutes long. Sam was on for 85 of these. What an amazing and happy birthday.

Blame

At 425, I got in my car to pick up Sam from a play date. On my way, I listed the rest of the day’s activities in my head:

 

Pick up Sam.

Drive to Brain Balance.

Write while in waiting room.

Drive home.

Make dinner.

Do exercises.

Build Legos - wait. Did I send Sam with a snack to his play date? No.

Did he tell the mom that he can’t eat dairy? Maybe.

Did he read the ingredients on whatever snack he chose? Maybe.

How did he feel when all he had to eat is fruit and his friend got to eat a better snack?

Did he forget all about his dairy free diet?

How could I forget? I am a bad mom.

Was I that busy this morning? Not really.

How could I forget? I am a bad mom.

How can I expect an eight year old to take care of himself? I am a bad mom. I am the worst.

Maybe it will be ok. Maybe they had Oreos as a snack.

Park and go inside calmly. It’s not the mom’s fault. Maybe it’s all fine…

I followed the sound of little boy laughter to the backyard. There were Sam and his friend, Alan, running around being goofballs. They were pulling Alan’s little brother (the youngest of four boys) in a wagon up the driveway and letting it roll back down to crash into the garage. It’s amazing how much more relaxed moms are with their fourth child! All was perfect and Sam was behaving like such a normal kid - right down to the Cool Ranch Doritos (!!!) in his hand.

Alan’s mom told me that they had been really good. She loved how nicely they played together and we planned a sleepover for the following weekend. Alan is a new-ish pal of Sam’s. He’s one of his few friends that doesn’t also have an IEP. So it’s always a relief to hear that Sam behaved himself and that there were no issues.

I waited till we were in the car and turned back to look at Sam.

What are you eating?
Doritos.

Did you check and see if there was milk in them?

Oh no.

Let me see…Contains milk ingredients.

Let me see. Oh no. You’re right. I’m so sorry mom. I’m so sorry. But it’s OK. I feel fine.

It’s not fine Sam. We have to start from the beginning. That’s three weeks wasted.

NO! They don’t know my body. I’m fine. I don’t need to do no dairy anymore. They don’t know me. I know me.

We have to talk to Casey. Maybe she’ll say we don’t have to start over. How many bags did you have?
Five (laughs).

Oy. This stinks. There’s no way she’s going to say you can keep going.
I’m so sorry mom. I am stupid. I’m stupid. I’m so sorry.

Oh Sammy. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault. I should have sent you with a snack. It’s not your fault.

I’m stupid. I’m so stupid.

No Sammy. It’s not your fault. Now you know for next time and I will try really hard to remember to send you a snack. You’re not stupid. You just didn’t check the ingredients. Next time try to remember.

Sam has always been quick to criticize himself in every kind of situation; whether he can’t remember a character’s name in a book he’s reading or he doesn’t manage to swing all the way across the monkey bars or is confused by a complicated math problem…he usually blames himself and leaps to being stupid or dumb or weak or any other kind of negative adjective that you don’t want to hear come out of your child’s mouth. Years with a psychologist have increased his confidence and he doesn’t usually sink into pits of self loathing like he did when he was younger. Whenever I can, I try to take the blame but he won’t always let me.

As soon as we arrived at Brain Balance, Sam announced what he ate. His sad mood was gone and had been replaced by laughter. He is giddy and the silliness is oozing out of him. I don’t know if it’s from all the attention he's getting, or the relief over not getting in trouble or maybe his body was celebrating the return of dairy. But whatever the cause, he was high as a kite and we were all amused by his energy and lack of remorse.

No big surprise when Casey confirmed that he has to start the elimination diet again.  As we headed to the car, Sam said – let’s get some Fro Yo! And you know that I can never say no to that. So off we went for a night of dairy: frozen yogurt, followed by a glass of milk and pizza rolls. Climbing into bed was a challenge for him - he had no energy left; he was floppy and defeated. Sadly he said – Maybe Casey knows what she’s talking about. My tummy feels bad.

Maybe she does. Only 12 more weeks to go.