Lauren Denton
A couple of months ago, our daughter Sela turned 7. Because she’d been planning her party pretty much since a few days after her sixth birthday, we had a lot of time to think about it, and she had a lot of time to change her mind.
At first, she wanted a hawk party. What’s a hawk party, you ask? I didn’t know either, but to her it meant everyone would wear a hawk costume that I, her sewing-averse mother, made for them. Thankfully for me and my poor sewing skills, that idea faded. Several more ideas came and went throughout the year, and finally, she landed on a bat party, but it didn’t have to do with baseball or even Batman or Batgirl. Just bats.
Along with being the most tender-hearted kid I’ve ever come across, Sela also loves any kind of creature, whether it crawls on the ground, barks, meows or flies in the air. So of course, it made perfect sense that she’d think bats are “just so cute” and want them featured as a centerpiece of her birthday party. We went around and around with the idea of costumes (“No, baby, I can’t make everyone their own bat wings”) and how exactly we should incorporate bats at her party.
Admittedly, at first I was pretty concerned about what everyone (parents and kids alike … OK, mostly just the parents) would think, coming to a little girl’s bat-themed birthday party. “Sela,” I said, “what if some of your friends are scared of bats?”
She answered, “Well, I’ll explain that bats are nice and they eat mosquitos and they’re not scary.”
Then I said I thought it might make it look like a Halloween party instead of a birthday party. She looked at me and said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s a party.” That’s about the time the proverbial lightbulb clicked on: She’s 7 years old, Lauren. If the girl wants a bat party, give her a bat party.
One of the strangest dichotomies of parenting I’ve found is the urge to see your kids be their own unique and interesting selves … and the simultaneous urge to see them follow a path that seems to be the right one because it’s the way “all the other” kids do it.
I love that Sela often carves her own path and has no thought to how things are “supposed” to be done. I love that last school year, my older daughter Kate said she didn’t care that most other kids were doing some kind of activity or sport — she didn’t want to do anything after school because she wanted to be able to come home and read.
And yet because of that maddening urge that occasionally sticks its ugly head in my face, I actually considered changing Sela’s mind about her birthday party because I was nervous about other people’s reactions. I also struggle with the notion that I should be making sure my girls are doing the right after-school programs — ones that’ll ensure they have enough friends and are involved in worthwhile activities. Or that they don’t walk out the door for school wearing two prints that scream at each other and everyone else around them.
But then hot on its heels comes the flip-side of that urge — the one that says, “You want to celebrate your birthday with bats instead of unicorns? Do it, girl.” “You’d rather excel in reading than sports? Shoot for the moon, kid.” Or, “You want to go to school wearing your purple crocheted headband Axl Rose-style instead of on the top of your head where most people wear headbands? Fine by me.”
Parenting is a constant balancing act, in so many ways. And our family is still miles away from the teen years, where I imagine good balancing will be even more important: learning how to balance our kids’ independence with our necessary protection of them. Learning to balance our own mother-hen fears with their need to stretch their wings and learn from their mistakes.
For Sela’s birthday, we decorated cupcakes with Oreo bats. The favor bags each had a plastic bat ring, and I strung a garland of bats under her Happy Birthday sign. I don’t think many people even noticed the decorations, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I allowed Sela to be her own unique and lovely person rather than try to fit her into a box. And Kate started out the party day wearing her purple crocheted headband, a la Axl Rose. And maybe I took one more step toward figuring out that balancing act.
When I’m not writing about my family and our various shenanigans, I write novels and go to the grocery store. THE HIDEAWAY, HURRICANE SEASON and GLORY ROAD are available in stores and online. You can reach me by email at Lauren@LaurenKDenton.com, visit my website LaurenKDenton.com, or find me on Instagram @LaurenKDentonBooks, Twitter @LaurenKDenton, or on Facebook ~LaurenKDentonAuthor.
