Mom Takes the Knock for One of Life’s Little Hurts

If there is one thing guaranteed to light up our 5-year-old’s eyes it is the prospect of a birthday party.

Her own, of course, is best, but no other invitations are declined. She recently turned down a weekend getaway to her cousins’ house so that she could attend a two-hour cake-and-ice-cream affair up the street. I understood, and made the trip to the cousins alone.

So this is why, when she received the invitation to the sleep-over-make-your-own-sundae-birthday-soiree, I made sure to RSVP right away. Nope, our daughter wouldn’t miss it for the world. This get-together was really big.

Guests were to arrive in pajamas, bathed and ready to indulge in fantasy dessert. Our daughter chose her Little Mermaid nightgown, coordinated with the sleeping bag of the same motif.

The birthday card accompanying her present--another Little Mermaid reincarnation, what else?--our daughter wanted to make herself. “I love you” she wrote to her friend, in glitter paints, for that festive look.

Not being able to stand it another minute really, she and her father left a little early for the affair. The talk on the way over was mostly gush: all the fun, all that ice cream, all those little girls trying not to sleep!

Except when they pulled up to the house, it was inexplicably dark. The reason still eluded my daughter as the car came to a stop, but her father had caught on. They walked up to the door, slowly now, with my husband trying to break the news. “Honey . . . I think there’s been a mistake . . . “

Yet they rang the doorbell, just to be sure. And now they were.

The mother of the house arrived, finally , to find my daughter and husband--he looking mortified, and she, plainly stunned--at her door. Then she crouched down to look at our daughter directly in the eye. “Oh, sweetheart . . . “ she began.

The birthday party was last night.

So where do I begin?

The good news, I suppose, is that the family of the (belated) birthday girl is gracious, understanding and very nice.

They invited our daughter to spend the night anyway and after her initial demurral, she said, well, OK, I guess it couldn’t hurt. She followed her friend up the stairs for some quality play time before bed.

The rest of the aftermath, though, is pretty sorry, I’m afraid. I can’t get it out of my mind. “How could this have happened ?” my mother, and sister, and it seems, everyone else has asked. My father’s reaction: “Oh my God!”

Blame must be assigned and with it, the usual punishment: guilt.

On the face of it, the birthday debacle is pretty simple to explain. The date on the calendar was indeed a Friday, yet the note jotted on the invitation asked that we pick up our daughter on Sunday morning. The discrepancy didn’t register, and I didn’t call.

So, really, this could have happened to anybody, but instead it only happened at our house. The mother of the birthday girl says another parent was confused about the mix-up, called, and everything was straightened out. For them.

While our daughter is scarred for life.

I am kidding, of course. I mean, that couldn’t happen, could it? The child is only 5 years old! Surely, there will be much greater trauma in her life.

I mean, I hope . No, wait. I mean, I hope not . This is my baby we are talking about.

Which is why all of this is not so easily resolved. Oh sure, kids are resilient. My daughter hasn’t mentioned the birthday faux pas and I doubt that it is uppermost in her mind. (And I, for one, am not about to bring it up).

But I’ve come close to what I’m afraid lies ahead. My daughters will get hurt. Friends will let them down. Love will come and go. A prize, a job, too many things, will go to someone less deserving than themselves. I can only protect my children from so much.

And too much protection, I know, isn’t very good. Everybody needs some scars. They make it more difficult for the pain to break through. They toughen one for a fair fight.

So, you see, I know all this, in my head. My heart, however, tells me something else. These feelings don’t make sense; they are illogical and difficult to form into words.

I won’t try to do that here. Most parents already know what I mean.

In the meantime, yet another birthday sleep-over is on my daughter’s social calendar. It’s for Saturday, of this we are sure. We called. And Beauty and the Beast are scheduled to appear, so we will be prompt.

Oh, yes. Haven’t you heard? The Little Mermaid is on her way out.