Let Them Have Pi
You knew this was coming. Here's a lifestyle-blogger-style blog post about last Saturday's pi party, to celebrate Wombat turning 3.14 years old (and me not having to throw yet another birthday party two weeks out from Christmas).
Once a year I get a really good idea, and the last few times it's happened, fortune has been smiling because it's been right in line with Wombat's birthday parties. Last year I came up with the idea to string balloons from the ceiling, and the year before that I decided to stay up late making candy sushi (and directing the grandparental sweatshop workers on proper rolling technique) for his fishpalooza fishstravaganza.
This year it popped into my head out of nowhere that instead of throwing Wombat's third birthday party on one of the two weekends before Christmas (the official day is December 14), I could delay it by fourteen hundredths of a year and throw a pi party in February that family and friends would have an easier time attending and I would have an easier time organizing without needing psych meds. Pi party it is! I patted myself on the back and had a sip of Martinelli's sparkling apple cider.
And then I panicked, wondering how in the world I was going to keep to the theme in a way that would be relatively simple and also make any sense to anyone besides me. Do I bake 3.14 cakes? Do we make everyone complete a math test before coming through the front door? Thank god Simon reminded me that pi has to do with circles and their circumferences and diameters and all that. Circles. I could do that.
I designed the invitations, and yes, it took a little figuring that gave me flashbacks to high school calculus, but it wasn't too hard in the end. Some turquoise cardstock, Photoshop, a printer, and a white pen (leftover from wedding crafting*), and voila. I wanted something that folded out so the pi part would be a surprise reveal; the only complication was arranging the post-decimal digits such that they wouldn't be mistaken for a San Francisco phone number (the area code is 415), and I think this worked.
[*Lies. We did use the white pen for wedding stuff, but it was actually from Simon's bachelor party, at which all the guests used it to sign a book of half-naked ladies for him, which is fine because those were the only half-naked guests present at said party, which is more than I can say for my bachelorette party. Mem'ries! Trent!]
Wait, what? Oh yes, MY CHILD'S BIRTHDAY PARTY.
I mailed them in black envelopes with the addresses written in turquoise gel pen and the closure sealed with a bit of turquoise polka-dotted washi tape. (I don't recommend colored ink on black envelopes if you care about your guests actually attending your soiree; a handful of our invites never made it through the postal system, so if you're wondering why you didn't get one, that's why. You were totally invited.)
Simon thought I was crazy for designing and handmaking the invites, but I did them all (about 15ish total?) in less time than I would have spent standing slackjawed in front of the options at Target, so ha.
Speaking of Target, they had ZERO plain turquoise plates or napkins or tablecloths or party hats. Boo on them. We got black plates and decorated the table with crepe paper (leftover from birthday #1) and small round mirrors (that I ordered as Christmas decorations five years ago and have never used) and curling ribbon, which my mom discovered forms a perfect circle if you just snip a short length off the end and let it go.
All the food was circular, you guys. I threatened Simon with unspeakable punishment if he returned from the store with anything other than round tortilla chips.
Everything was served in round bowls and on round platters too. I didn't even care if anyone else noticed.
What people did notice were the pi-shaped ice cubes, which I didn't even remember to put out until about halfway through. One hundred percent worth the splurge for rush shipping.
My major triumph was these circular pretzels, which I'll write more about later because they were easy and delicious and you should totally make them.
The decor was a combination of store-bought and handmade creations. I did one blue tissue poof, my dad(!) did another (they cost fifty cents and take all of five minutes), I spent an hour of my life making the fringed lantern, and my mom climbed on the dining room table and made everything look exquisite.
There's the famous heirloom birthday banner, which isn't matchy-matchy but does incorporate borth turquoise and circles, for those who are keeping a tally.
Speaking of the front door, I made some felt pi-type things and sewed them to a wreath. Yes, it's a little weird.
As guests left, they were invited to take a favor. Each bag had a Tootsie pop, a bouncy ball, and a container of bubbles (circles!) packaged in cellophane bags leftover from last year's favors plus a handful of the g-d packing grass that I hate but can't bare to throw away.
What was my favorite detail? The hats.
I jammed some tissue paper fringe in the tops. Done. Awesome.
And because they're multicolored I can reuse them for next year's party, which Wombat insists will be red.
Wombat also insisted I wear this necklace. The boots were just for fun.
Hell, the whole thing was just for fun. We certainly could have gotten away with a three-person party and a doughnut, but it definitely honored the spirit of our friendly, social child to host thirty-three (and a third!) guests for three whole hours. And guess what? We didn't need any games or crafts for the kids at all. I was prepared to wrangle everyone into Musical Statues if I needed to, but we didn't; we dumped out some toys and let them go nuts and then gathered everyone for candleing and singing and cakeing and gifting, and lo, it was wonderful.
The birthday boy was beside himself.
And I was proud to be beside him.
Happy 3.14, little big boy.Previous Next