Birthday Wishes

I've enjoyed many birthdays so far. Not just my own of course, but perhaps too many of my own. Growing old may be a pleasant, even welcome, transformation for some, but I have not yet reached that level of beatitude. Still, I am developing a new enjoyment for birthdays, especially those of my son and his friends. Watching the young ones cavort, while recalling my own joy at birthday parties as a child, gives me a new kind of bliss in the present. I feel a gladness in my heart knowing that lovely memories are forming around ecstatic experiences.

One thing that I remember wanting for my birthdays was a bouncy house. Unfortunately, not only was I young at a time where such things were uncommon, but I doubt my parents would have wanted to spend the money to rent one. While the cost is not exorbitant, it feels, even to me now, to be a bit much. Regardless, my desire for bouncy houses at birthday parties has not abated. Rather it has transferred to my son, where I wish this thing for him, that I might live out my dreams vicariously. Sadly, while we were absolutely going to do everything we could so that our son could have a lovely fifth birthday, we had to keep costs down. I would have to restrain my desire for a bouncy house for another year.

In that vein of frugality my wife and I made the birthday cake ourselves. We wanted to offer him a cake of his choosing, though I was hesitant to ask because sometimes the boy can be a bit fantastical. He did not disappoint. When we asked him what kind of cake he wanted he said "LEGO Mario Bowser's airship!" I remember looking pleadingly at my wife, trying to convey with my mind, facial expressions, and generally stressed out disposition, "Please, please just say no to this." She turned to our son and said "Ok."

I remember being quite cross. My wife initially tried to calm me down by saying we would hire the local, amazing, gluten free bakery to make the cake. Well, it turns out that a cake of this level of detail would end up costing around $750 and not even be to our specifications. So the task of making it fell to us.

Fortunately, my wife is extraordinary. She told me that as long as I provided the building materials, she would be the one to build it. As the birthday party approached and the cake needed to come into existence, she and I spent the better part of three days putting it together. I baked the cake parts, whereupon I learned an important lesson: if you want to make three times as much of something as finicky as cake, do not simply multiply the ingredients by three. You will find that no household bowl is big enough to hold such a volume of ingredients, the egg whites will not aerate properly, and, amongst other issues, the whole thing will cook to be as dense as an earth brick. When making three times as much cake as the recipe prescribes, bother to take the time and just make that one recipe three times.

In the end the toughness of the cake probably helped. My wife was able to carve and sculpt the cake into a bakery masterpiece. With focus, hard work, and marzipan, it eventually very closely resembled the LEGO set of choice. It was a wonder to behold. Though I knew, having made the actual cake/base material, that it would not taste wonderful. Fortunately that wasn't really the point of this fascinating display piece, and we had plenty of other tasty snack type foods prepared. In the end we saved some money on the cake by doing it ourselves, but not a lot of time. Still, it was a wonderful offering to our son who was, at his birthday, very excited to have the birthday cake he requested.

We didn't reserve a table in a park: this is another thing that has a surprisingly high cost. Fortunately many parks are first come first served for tables, so we did out best to get to the park of choice early in the hopes of grabbing the tables situated not only in the shade, but also closest to the children's play structure. Unfortunately we were both tired from our cake struggles over the previous days and we didn't make it to the park until around 10:00 am. Our party was going to be at 2:00 pm, but some other five year old's party was clearly taking place at 10:30 am, as their group had taken all the tables in the shade near the play area, decorated them thoroughly, set up streamers in the trees, balloons all over the place and, to both my awe and chagrin, erected a bouncy house very near their site.

I say "awe" because bouncy houses are awesome. They are, to me, much more fun than trampolines in that there is no danger of suddenly finding yourself fifteen feet in the air, back facing the ground, and body now directly over said ground because you foolishly added some lateral movement to your last bounce. They are, indeed, contained systems of kinetic madness. A lateral motion inside a bouncy house is usually met with the same result as vertical motion: you get bounced away from said surface. There is no escaping the bounce of the bouncy house. If you get enough friends inside bouncing frenetically, you may even get forced to bounce in hilariously disorienting ways as the masses of displaced air fail to match one's own pattern of jumping. Play in a bouncy house is an exhilarating frenzy of cross purpose vectors and applied Newtonian physics. As I made long trips back and forth to the car, shuttling party supplies to our tables, which were in the shade, though a fair distance from the playground, I was pre-regretting having to tell my son he could not go into the other group's inflatable play structure.

On one of my trips to and from the car I experienced the usually hidden aspect of another fairly common birthday experience. One fraught perhaps with a different kind of regret. I noticed a man in a strange red bodysuit standing next to his car, which happened to be parked nearly across from mine. He looked vaguely sad. There are many potential reasons why that might have been. The most obvious being that wearing a bright red full bodysuit in the heat, and it was quite hot that day, must be a very unpleasant experience. He was also muttering to himself, as if repeating lines, and was trying very hard not to be seen. That last type of action tends to reek of desperation. Especially once you know you've been seen and the person who saw you is only twelve feet away, and is vaguely looking at you. The total sadness bundle finally made sense when I was about to close the car and head back to the tables, heavily laden with party supplies. At that moment he finished what I would soon understand was a rehearsal cum self pep talk, and then, as one swallowing something distasteful, hastily donned the red and black visored helmet of a power ranger. He was the hired party entertainment for the other five year old. I then assumed the "vague sadness" was just an outer expression of the slow death of his soul: the existential horror of what his life had become.

I tried to think more positively about it. At least he has a job, he's getting gigs, he's making kids happy. Yes, but the distinct air of brokenness about the man told another tale, one that is very prevalent in the Los Angeles realm of The Industry. This man probably had an acting degree or some other meaningful chops that he had once dreamed would make him famous. Now he was just happy that he could hide his identity and keep it hidden while demonstrating strange Power Ranger moves to children while yelling equally strange catch phrases and instructions at them. It was yet another experience on that day that would move me towards the more pensive and grateful side of things. It also made me swear inwardly that I would have to be ready to tip heavily if I ever planned to hire such party entertainment.

Once the supplies had been unloaded my son and I were sent off on some final errands. My wife wanted some quiet, solitary time to finalize cake details, and we were happy to oblige. While we were out picking up balloons and other small party related items, she texted me hurriedly: the other party was done and had left, she was going to grab the closer tables! This was a triumph, and I applaud still her quick thinking. The whole party was improving subtly; despite our lateness to the park we were getting the tables we wanted. After a brief stop at home for lunch my son and I headed back to the park with our haul, as it was nearly time for the festivities to begin.

Once back in the parking lot, I prepared to make a few more trips back and forth between the car and the party zone in order to get all the new purchases, as well as a cooler filled with juice and water, over to the tables. At that time another stroke of good fortune befell me: one of my son's friends and their mother were chatting in the shade of a nearby tree. She had been waiting there because she had not wanted to arrive so early as to disrupt set up. I told her that, knowing my wife and her current boat cake project, that she had made a wise choice. What was particularly fortunate was that she very kindly helped me carry the cooler to the party site, thus helping me get the remaining supplies transported in one trip rather than two or more. It transformed a tedious, overly sunny job into a speedy pleasant one.

As we approached our party's tables I was once again dismayed: the big red bouncy house was still there despite the other party having otherwise cleared out completely. I had begun to explain my sadness about the situation to the mother helping me carry the cooler, when my wife, seeing us within range, ran over to greet us. I started to make unhappy sounds about the bouncy house but, fortunately, she cut me off.

"They said we can use it."

"What?"

"As they were leaving they saw me moving our stuff over and told me we could use it until it gets picked up."

I was elated. No longer did I have to undertake the unpleasant task of keeping a child from having fun. Not only did I now have the wonderful ability to exhort my son and his friends to experience the madness of the bouncy house, but my own dreams of even having one at a party had been realized. And at no cost! As soon as I had set down all the things I was carrying I told my son and his friend that they should go play in the bouncy house. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to say it, and even more exciting to see them then partake of this strange, noisy structure.

While I myself did not enter the bouncy house, I did not gate keep it either. I interpreted the previous party's willingness to let us use it as being universal. I chose to assume their generous offering covered any children that wanted to experience life as a large molecule in a small heated space. There were children at a table near our party's and I let them know they could go in if they so desired. Later, a child from a passing family could not resist the lure of the garish red structure, or the shouts of joy from the leaping forms within. Their mother moved quickly to tell them no, I swooped in to say yes, please, go inside and take your chances. Just take your shoes off first. I was filled with gratitude and happiness. Also with a great deal of sugary snacks.

I retired into watchful dad mode, letting my thoughts move inward, but keeping at least half my mind on what the children were up to. One or two got small bonks while bouncing about, but their parents were loving and quick to care for them. Mostly I had time to enjoy the joy of children, and reflect on the mysterious nature of the existence.

This type of thing, the miraculous arrival of a desired object, especially one believed to be impossibly out of reach, had happened to me once or twice before. One must resist the easy tendency to brush such events away as coincidence. Unfortunately the contemporary world encourages us to ignore the miracles that play out before us regularly. In the world of the materialists heresy is believing in the miraculous. But not even Einstein held this view. In many other traditions there is a different way of thinking about causes and what they bring about. Most people will tell you, and in the moment they will believe it with intense conviction, that the only way to get a bouncy house at your party is to rent one, own one, or steal one. The only way to get upgraded to business class is to have the most points on your frequent flier account. No one thinks about it differently until they experience something other. Directly. And I have. Enough times to be genuinely suspicious.

I'm not a fan of secrets, and I don't want to digress too far from the simple joys of a birthday party. I was in awe of the bouncy house, and I was rooted in gratitude, thankful not only for its presence, but for the perfect teaching it embodied. Do not despair that the world appears calcified or static. The extraordinary is everywhere and can leap out from the boredom of the everyday at any moment. Enjoy the strangeness of the world and, when the miracles come, let them throw you about, let them move you outside and in. Let them fill you with the joy of a child, enraptured with their birthday party, and unable to stand firm on the legs of solemn disbelief; let the walls and the floor send you soaring.