Hey GINYOU Party People! It’s Eliana Bell here, reporting live from Philadelphia, where the spring flowers are starting to pop, and my anxiety over Easter party planning is, unfortunately, also in full bloom. Every year, I host the big family Easter get-together, and frankly, my nieces and nephews (Kai, 8; Luna, 9; Lily, 10; Finn,…
Last March, specifically on a humid Tuesday that felt like a swamp in Houston, I found myself sitting on a very small plastic chair, surrounded by fifteen sticky three-year-olds and a mountain of green cardstock. My nephew, Liam, had turned three on March 14, 2025, and his obsession with a certain singing watermelon had reached…
Last March, I stood in the middle of my living room in Cabbagetown, Atlanta, clutching a bag of organic cocoa powder and staring at my beige carpet with a sense of impending doom. My daughter Maya was turning three on March 12, 2024, and she had spent the previous six months exclusively communicating in snorts…
My golden retriever Buster was wearing a tiny red bandana, and my toddler Liam was elbow-deep in a smash cake that looked vaguely like a muddy boot. This was October 14th. The brutal Austin heat had finally broken, leaving us with a crisp seventy-two degree afternoon. I threw a backyard rodeo for Liam’s second birthday…
The living room smelled like latex and frantic parenting on the morning of April 12, 2025. I was standing in the middle of my Austin bungalow, surrounded by 16 five-year-olds who had more energy than a pack of caffeinated squirrels. My nephew, Leo, was turning five. He had one demand: a “shark-pocalypse.” My mission was…
My living room looked like a locker room exploded, but with more glitter and the faint scent of expensive Stumptown coffee. It was April 12th, last year, and the Portland rain was doing its usual gray-drizzle dance outside my window. My oldest, Leo, was turning 11, and between his team’s chaotic energy and my two…
Portland rain has a very specific way of ruining crepe paper. Bleeding pink dye everywhere. Total nightmare. I learned this the hard way on April 12th last year. My oldest, Chloe, was turning 12. Nineteen middle school girls were descending on my house in exactly four hours. I was standing on a step-stool in our…
My minivan still smells like artificial strawberry and cheap glitter from last Saturday. Aria and Leo, my nine-year-old twins, decided that a woodland theme was the only acceptable way to celebrate their birthday this year. Living in a small bungalow in Chicago means that seventeen kids plus wings and wands equals total, glorious chaos. Finding…
Austin sun beat down on my driveway on March 12, 2024, as I stared at nine toddlers who were about to become pint-sized Pollocks. My son Leo was turning three, and instead of a bouncy house that would cost me $300 for four hours, I chose chaos. I chose paint. I chose to find the…
Twenty-four kindergartners in a Houston classroom during a thunderstorm is exactly as loud as you imagine. My ears usually ring until 4:00 PM, but last March, the chaos followed me home for my niece Lily’s fourth birthday party. I spent weeks staring at mood boards and trying to figure out how to transform a standard…
