@haileydoesparties: Hey GINYOU fam! Easter is just around the corner, and I’m already feeling the sugar rush jitters from last year. My Chloe (2) and Aria (6) ended up with so much candy they were still finding stale jelly beans in August! And honestly, Bear, our rescue mutt, probably got more crumbs than he should…
Chicago wind is no joke when you are trying to balance a loaded chili dog on a flimsy piece of paper. I learned this the hard way on April 12, 2025, at Winnemac Park. It was my twins’ eighth birthday, and Sam and Leo were sprinting around the diamond like they just got called up…
Austin in July feels exactly like the Colombian jungle, minus the magical sentient house and plus a lot more humidity that makes my hair look like a startled poodle. Last Saturday, I stood in my backyard near Zilker Park, clutching a lukewarm Topo Chico and watching my niece Maya’s fifth birthday party descend into a…
I stood in my backyard last October, sweating through a flannel shirt that I thought made me look like a rugged rancher but actually made me look like a guy who got lost on his way to a lumberjack convention. My son Leo was turning 12 on October 14, 2024, and he decided—with the sudden,…
Twenty-two four-year-olds in a single room on a humid Tuesday morning in Houston is exactly as loud as you think it is. I sat there on April 21, 2026, staring at a box of empty toilet paper rolls and wondering if I had finally lost my marbles. My coworker, Sarah, had warned me that a…
My twins, Leo and Maya, turned 12 last week. Rent in Chicago is brutal right now. I usually cap my kids’ birthday parties at a strict fifty bucks. But thirteen hormone-fueled middle schoolers crammed into my two-bedroom apartment required a slight budget adjustment. If you are frantically searching how to throw a safari party for…
My son Leo turned eleven last Saturday, April 18, and I finally accepted that I am not, and will never be, a professional set designer. Living in the humid heart of Atlanta means that any party planning involves a battle against physics and moisture. Last year, I tried to build a TIE Fighter out of…
My daughter Maya turned sixteen on March 12, 2026, and instead of asking for a car or a weekend trip to Savannah with her friends, she told me she wanted a Paw Patrol party. I stared at her. She wasn’t joking. Apparently, among her group of friends in North Atlanta, “ironic nostalgia” is the new…
The smell of spilled fruit punch and cheap face paint is basically my signature scent by mid-October. I’ve spent twelve years in the Houston Independent School District teaching second grade, which means I’ve survived enough classroom parties to know that “organized chaos” is a lie. It’s just chaos. But last year, when my student Timmy…
My garage still smells like a mix of industrial-strength spray adhesive and damp Northwest cardboard from Toby’s 9th birthday bash back on October 14th. Living in suburban Portland means you basically gamble with the weather every single time you host a party, and of course, that Tuesday was a total washout. I had thirteen sugar-hyped…
