It’s My Party, Mom Can Cry If She Wants To

I had been planning it for months. My son’s birthday party was going to be spectacular. I booked the venue three months before the party, and had everything lined up perfectly so that all could attend. It was going to be epic.

As you know, this Montco Mommy takes birthdays for her kids pretty seriously. I like everything to be perfect. I want, most of all, for my children to be happy. Their birthday is their super special day. Nothing can go wrong.

But, for the first time in my history of planning my children’s parties, something did. I messed up.

It all started with an idea. At a recent Reading Phillies baseball game, I saw that children could spend the entire game playing in a heated pool located in right field. What better place for a 6-year-old to celebrate turning that magical number 6?

When I learned about the major parties the team runs for children to enjoy the day of their birth, I knew we had to have his party there. We booked it when my son was still in the throes of the season, and he looked forward to it all summer long.

I read to him the list of amazing things that would be included in his party. He was going to receive a signed baseball from the team, a Reading Phillies baseball hat, and a jersey with his name and number on it. His friends would get full pool privileges during the entire game. They could play in the fun land area with carnival-like attractions including a giant inflatable slide. Oh yeah, and they’d get to watch a baseball game.

There were going to be fireworks after the game, but for us, they started before. We were running late. And, of the number of things on the list of amazing items the Reading Phillies offer a child on his birthday, the one my son dreamed about all summer was to throw out the first pitch at a live game!

As we hit 422 traffic, I started to get anxious. As we picked up the last party member late, and it took much longer than I had estimated, I started to worry. By the time we hit game night traffic, I was in a full out panic.

Driving an oversized, tank-like Honda Pilot, I decided, car-full of children or not, that I’d make my last efforts to make game time by driving along the shoulder of the roadway. I am dodging cranky drivers and narrowly missing bridge guardrails, but I got us to within sight of the stadium.

Handing my sister the wheel, I bailed out of the truck, son in tow, to RUN all the way to the stadium, through traffic and the parking lot, into the front gates and onto that field.

My baby was going to throw out that first pitch, if it killed me. We dashed through a back service entrance gate right to customer service, where we were promptly informed we were about five minutes too late.

And there it was. Right in the middle of public, it was there. In full view of hundreds of fans, a full on meltdown started.

The tears were streaming, the nose was sniffling, and the cheeks were pink and rosy. It was a full-fledged tantrum fit. It was sad to watch and embarrassing for the fit thrower. But, it wasn't who you'd think. I shockingly looked down into my darling son’s eyes to his freckled pale face to see that it was not HE that at burst into tears. It was ME!

I had ruined his party. I was a mother failure. I destroyed his dreams. And, who was crying? That’s right, the 5'10' redheaded mother … not her child.

“It’s OK, mommy,” Seamus said, tugging at my sleeve. “I don’t need to do that. Let’s just head to the pool.”

And that was it. He was ready to move on and have a great party with his friends. And that is just what happened. It turned out to be the “best birthday party ever.”

I have to give a big hand to the staff at the Reading Phillies. They were just amazing. It was my fault that we were late, but they were so understanding and accommodating, offering my son a chance to throw a pitch out to start the coming playoff games. They were awesome, and I have to take a moment just to especially thank Jon Muldowney, the manager of special events there. He stood before a crying grown woman and was amazingly understanding and helpful. You were so compassionate and caring. Thank you, Jon, for keeping me together that night! You were a godsend.

“Mom, this was the greatest night of my life,” said Seamus.

“Really, buddy? I’m so glad you are happy,” I said.

“It is the greatest night of my life right now, but might not be until the day I die, because when I get my first car, THAT will be the greatest moment,” he replied.

“But, for right now?” I asked.

“Yeah, for right now, it is the best moment in my life."

And, missed first pitch aside, that was all that mattered. I won’t lie; I shed another tear, but this time for having such an amazing kid!

My baby is now 6 years old, and he is a stronger person than his mother ever will be. He amazes me each day, and I love his awesome power of empathy.