Friday was Caroline’s 5th birthday. Two weeks ago, before I left for France, I casually asked our two closest neighbors if they would like to come over in the evening to celebrate. As the day neared, I got increasingly nervous about having people over. It seemed like a heavy responsibility to throw a party here. I don’t know hospitality customs. Caroline, too, was reluctant to have a party at all. When I asked her how she wanted to celebrate, she replied that she wanted a “private party” with just Margaret, and to turn the living room into a “cool obstacle course by stacking pillows on the couch.” This she promptly began to do, and by the time Margaret put her book down and came to see what the excited laughter was about, Caroline had constructed exactly what she wanted. They proceeded to turn somersaults down a stack of cushions for the next half hour. Party? Check. If that’s all Caroline wants, I’m glad that we can meet her desires so readily.

Meanwhile, another mother at the International School of Utrecht was trying to contact me. Her son Judah’s birthday was October 10th (Caroline’s is the 11th). She wanted to know if I wanted to coordinate a joint celebration for the class. She planned to make apple muffins with icing (satisfying the desire for cake with a modicum of nutrition). I volunteered to bring gift bags for each student, as I’d seen other families do. She also sheepishly told me that she had planned a birthday party for Judah on Caroline’s actual birthday, and that he really wanted her to come.

“Would she like to come? I know it’s a bit awkward that it’s on her birthday. You could bring a cake too and we could sing to her also. It’s at a park around the corner just after school on Friday.”

I told Judah’s mom that Caroline would love to come. No problem. We already had a plan to have her cake at home in the evening. Wednesday evening over dinner, I went over the schedule that was forming for her birthday. This was a mistake.

Me: First we will have breakfast at home; is there a special thing that you want?

Steve: We haven’t had French toast since we got here.

Caroline: French toast!

Me: Then you will have cupcake-muffins and gift bags at school.

Caroline: I don’t want to give gift bags.

Me: [Moving on] Then we will go to the park and play with some classmates to celebrate that it’s Judah’s birthday also. Then we will have a private family dinner, just like you wanted.

Caroline: I want pasta.

Me: And then Ties and Sterra, Ottilie and their parents will come over for some cake. And Cormac and the Staggs.

Caroline: I don’t want them to come!

Caroline then proceeded to tell us that she desperately wanted to throw a birthday party and invite her two favorite classmates, Aimie and Atrina. There were tears. She yelled/cried and accused me of “making her decisions for her.” Now, I’m proud to say, she can throw a four-year-old temper tantrum with five-year-old words.

After this display, I started wondering whether Caroline would be rude to our Dutch neighbors when they come over to share a piece of birthday cake on Friday evening. I had made simple invitations using the back-sides of symmetrical geometric shapes that Caroline had colored and delivered them to our two neighbors and our friends the Staggs by hand. “Please come for a slice of cake and a glass of wine from 7 to 8” they read. One hour. Would it be a social disaster?

Thursday dawned dry. Becky Staggs and I had lunch together, and she helped me shop at the discount store for gift bags and stuff to put into them: balloons, curly straws, mini-notebooks, raisins and one tiny lollipop. After school, Margaret and Caroline came to the store with me to buy ingredients for chocolate cake. At home, both were delightfully enthusiastic about filling the gift bags…all 32, which took a while. (The International School Utrecht is small because it’s in its 2nd year. That said, although most classes are a combination of two grades, there are so many kindergarteners that they divide them into two groups for much of the day.)

After Caroline went to bed, Margaret begged to stay up and decorate the first floor of the house with me. We hung the two colorful strings of flags that our Dutch neighbors had lent us. We blew up balloons and taped them to the dining room table. Margaret decorated Caroline’s table setting with a name card. She found that caring older-sister spirit that sometimes gets lost and let it shine.

October 11th dawned in pouring rain. Steve warmed the house with French toast. Margaret kept acting the kind sister role. Caroline asked her to bush her hair (usually a tear-inducing morning chore). They practically held hands and skipped downstairs. Margaret showed C to her special place at the table. C wanted M to sit by her. We had a delicious breakfast. Caroline opened a few presents, choosing the ones from Margaret and my parents, which included found-objects from around the city like an old motorbike tire and a castle-shaped 3-D puzzle. (Guess who gave what.)

Steve biked the girls to school in the rain, carrying a big plastic bag of smaller gift bags. I debated going too, but decided just to let it be. Caroline was happy. I reminded myself that it’s good to stay in the background when sisterly good feelings dawn to warm the sometimes icy landscape of sibling competition. Hopefully Steve would take a picture of Caroline in her classroom. (He did.)

All day I worked on the book manuscript and measured cake ingredients on a few breaks between 25 minute writing sessions. When I took Caroline to Judah’s party in the afternoon, lo and behold, Atrina and Aimie had been invited too. The three girls jumped together on the trampoline and climbed around on the jungle gym in between raindrops. Atrina and Caroline got a bit frustrated with each other toward 4:30, which made it easier to head home at 5:00 while Judah opened his presents.

We were greeted by steaming pasta, more family gifts to open (as I write, Caroline and Margaret are sculpting with some new play-dough), and a cake to mix and bake. Steve had bought wine. After dinner we arranged wine glasses, took quick showers, and were ready and waiting with warm chocolate cake and red wine when the neighbors arrived. There were three cheek kisses and “Congratulations!” all around. As a hard-working mom, I like the Dutch “Congratulations!” as the common birthday greeting.

The Staggs were the hit of the kids’ evening because they brought cupcakes shaped and decorated like hamburgers with “mustard, catsup, and relish” icing. Caroline giggled asking all four Dutch kids if they wanted “een hamburger” (same word in Dutch). We lit one candle (what happened to the others that I bought??) and sang “Happy Birthday” in English, then our neighbors sang in Dutch. Theirs is a rousing song with a lot of hip hip hoorays at the end: “Hieperdepierp Hoera!” 

The sweet red wine recommended by the vintner at the end of our block was delicious. The warm chocolate cake (that’s actually a brownie recipe) was as good as I remembered it from when Brian made it for Household one Sunday night last year. We were liberal with the whipped cream (this is Holland). Caroline oohed and aahed over t
he Staggs’ gifts, including a jar of lovely flower shaped and scented soaps. Margaret made everyone laugh when she spoke the truth a little too loud: “I need to use that mint one on my armpits!” The neighbors’ gifts were so thoughtful and perfect for the 5 year old: sparkly jewelry and art supplies.

It was a good night. It felt like an elegant, hour-long wine and chocolate party for eight adults and a concurrent, blessedly short cupcake and apple cider party for eight kids. The Staggs’ ever-patient 13-year-old fell somewhere in the middle, and I found her reading upstairs at midpoint. (Girl, I totally get where you’re coming from.)

I even helped to Skype with both grandmothers and got Caroline into bed without a tantrum (ok, there was plenty of bossy backtalk), but after so much sugar and excitement, that felt like a feat. When I started to sing a song to C to say goodnight as is my custom, she put her fingers in her ears. Unfortunately, I think she picked this rude gesture up from me and Steve, because sometimes when she’s screaming her frustration, I can both protect my long-term hearing and still hear her just fine if I put my fingers in my ears. It’s actually easier to interact with her with consistency and kindness when my ears aren’t in pain. So her rude response to my song wasn’t worthy of chastisement, it just meant that I stopped, kissed her forehead, and left the room promptly. If she’s going to act rudely, then I can choose not to stick around for it. So, that was the anti-climactic end to her birthday.

Now it’s Tuesday morning, and I’m journaling before I turn to revising a book chapter. After rereading and remembering the end to Caroline’s birthday, I chuckle to note that when I’ve lain in bed reviewing my day before sleep the last two nights, it has been bedtime with Caroline that I savor. Everything just goes more smoothly when it’s not rushed. When we haven’t just had a birthday party, we have been lying side by side, reading One Dog and his Boy by Eva Ibbotson aloud, and the story is both gripping and dear. Then I asked her, last night, if I could give her “drie kussen” (three kisses) back and forth on her cheeks.

“No” she replied. “I want to kiss your nose.” [She did.] “Now you kiss mine.” [I did.] “Now do what I do,” she said. [She kissed my forehead.] So on we went, playing follow the leader with face kisses, her giggling and me filled with joy and awe at this beautiful little girl whom I get to love everyday.