Birthdays
Everything's at least a little difficult, isn't it?
We celebrated my daughter's birthday over the weekend. It was Frozen-themed, as my life is anymore, complete with an Olaf piñata, cleverly-titled snacks (Sven's favorite veggies, anyone?), and unseasonably cold weather I didn't plan but took full credit for. It was the first big party we'd thrown for her in two years on account of the plague, and I think it went pretty well.
She had fun, at least.
One thing I struggle with is giving my kid stuff. I don’t like giving her things to have things, not only because I don't have space for these things but because there's richness to be found in doing things, experiencing things, and not just having things. Hell, I struggle with this myself. I have a bad day, and I convince myself a new record or hockey jersey or God-knows-what will make it better. I don't necessarily think to, say, go on a walk. And, even though it might be inevitable, I'd love it if my kid didn't end up this way.
I'll be straight with you about this. I'm not good at it. Especially early on, I loved buying my kid things. We bought her four or five baby dolls, different types of balls to play with, a few sets of blocks—the whole gamut. As she's gotten a little older, though, we've tried to taper back, focus on doing things. You know, playing outside. Reading. Going to the park.
This isn't easy around birthday time, though. There’s biting down my own impulse to shower my kid in 90s memorabilia or the latest Disney princess, but there’s an added level of complexity in that other people want to shower her in stuff, too. And that’s not so easy to bite down. We tried on her first birthday, encouraging people to donate to the NICU she stayed in for six weeks when she was born, but most folks didn’t do that. We didn’t even throw her a second birthday, and that didn’t stop folks either. I spent a lot of time leading up to this year’s birthday thinking about how I could stop it, but I ultimately came up empty-handed, resigned myself to letting whatever was going to happen, well, happen.
Letting go of trying to control this thing gave me more of a chance to listen to the reason it was happening. It wasn’t just people giving my kid gifts for the sake of gift-giving. There was my wife’s parents giving my kid a Power Wheels Jeep so she could match their Jeep (well, almost match). There was a family friend gifting her a play veterinarian set that her kids loved when they were my daughter’s age. These are things, sure, but I guess they’re not worth worrying about or trying to control because at the end of the day, whatever’s going to happen will happen. For me, at least, it gave me a chance to enjoy the little community my family has around us, parents and grandparents and friends, and the kindness they show my kid. And really, that’s not so bad, is it?
Some recommendations:
Gang of Youths’ latest album, angel in realtime., is an absolute beaut of a record. It has the swooping string arrangements and epic choruses that characterize their previous albums, but there’s a rawness to it that reminds me of driving by my childhood home or looking through family photos. “hand of god,” consisting of just singer David Le'aupepe and a piano, is probably the best example example of this.
I’ve written about Dmitry Samarov in previous entries, but I’m reading his latest book, Old Style, and can’t get enough of it. It’s a collection of interconnected flash fiction set in Chicago dive bars between 9/11 and the start of the pandemic, and it captures the gritty community of that culture and community so well. Two things I love about Samarov are his brevity and wit, both of which shine through so brightly in this one. Copies are available on his website if you want to check it out.