The Joy of Birthdays

By Joe Barker

I love birthdays and always have. Even as I am increasingly beset by age-induced infirmities—I'm looking at you, dodgy knee and whinging back—I still feel a thrill as March rolls around and I can start counting down to my birthday. No longer do I get a barrage of cards containing crisp five-pound notes from kindly aunts, nor do I take a box of jellybabies into school to share with classmates, who, for at least a day, have decided they want to be my friends. And my mom has long since ceased to cook a magnificent football pitch or tractor-themed cake that will be the envy of all my birthday guests. Nowadays I'm lucky if anyone remembers to send me a card and my wife only buys me a fraction of the presents I so deserve. Yet that birthday joy remains.

Fortunately it's not only my birthday that I enjoy. As a child, I got nearly as much pleasure out of eating my brothers and sisters’ birthday cake and scavenging their leftover party food as I did from my own party, so as an adult I can thrill at others’ parties. I love an excuse to celebrate with friends, and children's parties are even better. You are guaranteed a cake and plenty of party food, as well as any number of parents desperate for a glass of wine, and a therapeutic discussion of the challenges of parenthood. Fun for all the family. Best of all, though, are my children's birthdays.

There is the excitement in the days leading up to the festivities as my wife and I discuss the toys we are going to get: will this be the year we finally become a pirate-Lego-ship-owning household? Something I've coveted since I was a mere stripling of eight. Then there is the excitement of going around the toy shops and buying just one more thing. I return home a little nervous about what my wife is going to say about my uncontrolled shopping spree, only to find that she has been snapping up Facebook bargains with a gay abandon that physical shopping could never match. Which means we now get the thrill of exploring each other's purchases and imagining how much fun the children will have with all these goodies.

Finally, the happy day arrives and it starts in the finest possible fashion: cake for breakfast. A family tradition that I entirely credit my wife for, and frankly what better way can there be to begin a birthday? The blowing out of candles adds a frisson of danger to the whole experience as well as delaying my breakfast cake more than I'd like. Eventually, though, we find the matches and achieve fire. This year, as a newly minted two-year-old, Alice promptly attempted to eat the flickering candles. Fortunately I was prepared for such an eventuality and caught her before breakfast was delayed yet further by a child conflagration. Once the flaming cake has been successfully extinguished, I produce a painfully tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday and finally we eat.

Things get even better after the cake, as it's now time to unwrap the presents. For Marty, this involves a frenzy of tearing that makes me glad we used old newspaper rather than pretty wrapping paper to cover his presents. Only once his feverish frenzy has reduced the wrapping to scraps does he pause to admire the treasure haul. As new books, Lego, and a toy castle emerge from the chaos, I'm at least as excited as he is. It's a great personal disappointment when he has to get ready for school and I realize I'll have to stop playing with my, ahem, I mean, his new toys. It's worth the wait though, as with fresh slices of cake we spend an evening building castles, looking at books, and sifting through Lego blocks. 

As a lady of leisure, with no school making unreasonable demands on her time, Alice sets a gentler pace with the unwrapping, focusing on tasting every piece of paper before carefully shredding it and hurling it, with hysterical giggles, to the floor. She then runs from person to person emitting excited squeaks and thrusting her latest goody at them. 

The birthday excitement doesn't end after a single day as there is still a party to come. I don't know how long this can last, but at the moment we look on the children's birthdays as an excuse to invite all our friends to come and eat cake. We have a lovely time and the children aren't old enough to realize that this should have been a kids’ party with them, rather than us, as the focus. Any excuse to meet up with friends and cake is good, but this has the added advantage that despite our protestations, some of them will come bearing gifts, and so we get the thrill of unwrapping more presents and discovering new toys for me to enjoy. 

Marty will be six next birthday and I fear that by that age he may want fewer adults and more children at his party. I don't look forward to sharing my cake with hordes of ravenous children, but the party games will be some compensation. This may also signal the end of joint parties for Marty and Alice. Since she was three days old, Alice has been turning up to her brother’s birthday parties and stealing his limelight, but will a six-year-old want his baby sister at his party? I doubt it, not that I will give in without a fight since shared parties are undoubtedly easier for Daddy. 

Fun though the parties in Bangkok have been, the best parties have been at granny's house with all the cousins. One year, my sister, remembering the magnificent cakes our mom used to make, produced a stunning construction-site-themed chocolate cake, complete with toy diggers. Then my mom designed a treasure hunt that thrilled the four-year-olds with its ingenious clues and beautiful pictures. They have set a high bar, but I intend to make themed cakes and treasure hunts the centerpieces of Marty and Alice's birthday parties for years to come. 

Now, as we all know, it's the exceptions that prove the rule, and there is one birthday I do not love: my wife's. It falls two days before mine, which has always seemed to me like a selfish attempt to distract from my obviously much more important anniversary. Worse than that is the present-buying: while shopping for toys is fun, thinking of something my wife will like strains my mental processes to their very limits. All too often, despite weeks of sleepless nights, tossing and turning in desperate thought, the only thing I can come up with is chocolate. Again. 

Now, my wife loves chocolate and this would not be a problem, except that a mere two days later, my paltry offering will be cast into dismal perspective as my wife showers me with a generous range of thoughtful gifts; each beautifully wrapped and appearing to whisper, recriminatingly, “I'm so much better than a box of chocolates.” My wife doesn’t seem to mind, but I always feel guilty. Fortunately, the enormous chocolate cake that inevitably marks our joint birthday celebrations provides delicious consolation, and I comfort myself that maybe next year inspiration will finally strike! 

About the Author 

Joe and his wife Diane moved to Thailand in 2018. Since the arrival of their son Martin in 2021 and daughter Alice in 2024, Joe has been a stay-at-home father. The whole family enjoys BAMBI playgroups and Thai beach holidays. Find Joe on SubStack: BangkokDad bangkokdad.substack.com/