My birthday is coming up, and while I was reading a blog that mentioned something about a birthday, I was reminded of one time I decided to celebrate a friend’s birthday. It was his 26th, not a notable birthday by any means. But since Officer Friend is approximately 2 months and 23 days older than I am, I decided to make fun of the fact that he was aging faster than me. I bought a 4-inch decorated cake from the supermarket, managed to fit “Happy Birthday Officer Friend” on the top, and put 26 candles on it. Now, that many candles on a larger cake would have been no big deal, but on a cake that small, it produced one large flame, lots of black smoke, and left a sheet of wax on the top. I had to open the window to prevent the smoke alarm from going off, which was not pleasant in the late weeks of a New England winter.

Within the past decade, both of my parents have celebrated their 50th birthdays. Of course, with a milestone birthday such as this, one must be given a surprise party. My dad’s was pretty typical of his gatherings, and the surprise would have gone off without a hitch were it not for my impatient nephew, who was not quite 6 at the time. About 10 minutes before getting ready to leave the house, Bubba asked, “Papa, when are we leaving for your surprise party?” So, 2 years later when my mom’s milestone birthday rolled around, it was decided that the best way to protect the top secret plans was to keep Bubba out of the loop altogether.

My mom’s party was very well planned, and boy was she surprised. See, she was planning on going down to the mid-Atlantic states to visit her oldest brother, whose birthday is less that a week from hers. They would be going to a classic, popular steak house in the area for dinner. I called up my uncle and we got our evil heads together and decided to invite a few more people along – mostly relatives in the area whom my mom didn’t get to visit with very often. Also along for the ride was my stepdad, who pretty much never made the trip to visit the relatives, and my sister, who also didn’t get down there often, if at all.

I managed to use my busy schedule and lots of errands as an excuse to not meet my mom at the house before heading to the restaurant, which was important since I had my sister and stepdad in tow, and we also stopped at Great Auntie’s house to pick her up. We gathered at the restaurant and waited for everyone else, and I was to get a call from my uncle when they were on their way – he would call with the ploy that he’d be putting in his name for a table. Everything went smoothly. My mom had Bubba with her, and he was really clueless. When they walked into the room, my mom blurted out, “What’s my husband doing here?” as we all yelled SURPRISE! Oh, it worked, she was surprised. After threatening me a few times, we had a grand old time, Mom got to catch up with relatives, and I kept all the organizational things under control.

My own birthdays have been memorable, but in a I-wish-I-could-forget kind of way. There was the year I came home to an apartment I was sharing with one of my best friends and found my birthday card ripped up and a note that said to get out. There was the year that my then boyfriend left a message on my answering machine saying I was no longer welcome in his life. There were a few others that weren’t quite so bad, but now I don’t place too much emphasis or expectations on my birthday. And no, I don’t want to explain these incidents and rehash the past. I’m just trying to get through each and every day and trying to make it a good day, whether it’s my birthday or any of the other 364 days in the year.

Now, getting back to the surprise parties. My mom made many threats that evening, mostly hinting at her need for revenge. The following year, I was getting ready for my move to Las Vegas, so I wanted to have a party, a combo Going Away/1st Annual 29th Birthday party. Since I had sold my home, my mom would be hosting this party. I had lots of things to do, so I gave her a guest list and how to contact these people. Then, a few days before the party rolled around, she tried her best to be sly and ask me if I could come over on Saturday afternoon with a really vague mention of something to do. I told her it wouldn’t work – for one, I had given her a guest list and told her when to hold the party. I also wasn’t going to let my guard down anytime soon, so if she wanted to throw a surprise party for me, wait about 20 years. I might let my guard down by then.

So she moved on to my uncle. He was turning 60 that year, so mom thought she could exact revenge on him for his part in the planning. I told her not to do it, once someone is past 50 it’s just not safe. My uncle may still be a world traveller, but I know his ticker ain’t what it used to be. I love the guy, and I want him around for many more years. So I did what I could to diffuse the surprise element. Go ahead, call me a spoiler, but I only did it out of concern for his health. If he was younger, I ‘d be all for it. But I also wanted to prove to my mom that she will never be able to plan a surprise party as well as I can.

When I was in high school, my mom wanted to plan a surprise party for my stepdad for a milestone birthday he was having. She invited his twin brother to visit us from his home in Moose-land, so Uncle Brother and his wife came down and the 4 of them went out to dinner. For some odd reason, Stepdad actually believed that I was staying home to study on a Saturday night. Fool. I’ve heard enough stories about him in high school and college to know that he’s seriously losing it if he bought that. What I really did was let in guests, go with one of the guests to pick up a keg (at 17, there was no way I could do this myself), and set everything up. Meanwhile, Stepdad and Uncle Brother ate pretty much everything on the dessert cart. (I have previously mentioned that my stepdad is a human garbage disposal; that trait is also seen in his twin.) When the group arrived back at the house, no one noticed the unusually large number of cars parked nearby. And the guests of honor certainly didn’t smell the chocolate sheet cake that was permeating the air. Also not noticed were the large number of people hushing each other in the dining room, until stepdad walked in and everyone yelled out the obligatory surprise party greeting. After recovering from his near heart attack, he turned to my mom, told her he hated her, and made a vow to himself to be a bit more observant about things.

Here’s what I’ve learned about surprise parties and how to have a successful one:
1. Micro-manage the details. It’s the only way to keep everything under control and keep the cat in the bag.
2. Be careful when involving minors. It might be fun to let the kids in on the planning because they get so excited, but their innocent honesty is just the sort of thing that will spoil things here.
3. Never attempt revenge against a master surprise party planner. You’ll never get it.
4. One self-adhesive Depends undergarment can hold a very large amount of beer.

About birthdays in general, really, they aren’t that important. It’s just another day that just happens to be listed on your driver’s license, so don’t let expectations get you down. Don’t rely on others for the best birthday ever, and don’t let people who inadvertently (or purposely) ruin your day with seriously bad timing get to you. Get over it, get drunk and eat fattening food, and feel better tomorrow – or the day after, once you get over that hangover.