Why I sobbed uncontrollably over a child's party favour

When I was a child I was utterly oblivious to the pressures felt by my parents.

Like any child, I had no idea whether they felt compelled to keep up with the Joneses or felt pressurised into making decisions or purchases based on appearances.

If they did, they kept it from me.

Had they attempted to communicate it, I would have listened politely, nodded at the appropriate time and asked whether this would have any impact on my wardrobe, pocket money or after-school activities.

It was only when I became a parent, I realise how acutely I feel the need to measure up as a mum and present myself as a woman who can do it all with children who can have it all.

I didn’t realise how exhausting this was until I suffered a meltdown which saw me sobbing over a child’s birthday party goodie bag.

Upon dropping Grace off at a school friend’s birthday party, I watched her shyly present her pal with a present which cost me more than I’d like to admit.

It didn’t break the bank by any means, but it certainly put a bigger dent in it than a random child’s present should have. Especially when I struggle to even remember that child’s name.

But it’s what you do, isn’t it?

It’s been a long time since I spent time in a classroom with a group of seven-year-olds, but I knew a bad birthday present could see you struck off the next birthday party guest list and I didn’t want Grace to suffer just because I refused to loosen the purse strings.

Satisfied I had covered all bases, I thanked the other child’s mum for having Grace for the afternoon, she thanked me for the ‘kind gift’ and I promptly left.

So far, so suburban Saturday afternoon.

So when Grace clambered into the backseat of my car later that evening and excitedly opened her party favour, my heart sank.

The birthday girl’s mum had gifted the eight children who attended the celebrations with a more extravagant version of the present I had given her daughter,

I couldn't justify the fancier version, so I had plumped for the most modest version. The 'most modest' meant the cheapest and now everyone would know.

I felt mortified beyond all belief.

What will she think of me? What will she think of Grace?

I tried to put things in perspective in an effort to console myself.

It was the equivalent of me showing up at friend's school party thirty years ago and offering the same gift that was used in the Pass the Parcel session.

Nope, my self-comfort wasn’t helping.

I kept it together in front of Grace, but broke down in front of her dad. Tears of embarrassment pricked my eyes as I admitted what had happened.

In my hysteria, I almost assumed he’d berate me for not putting more effort into the child’s present, but then I remembered the man I married. Down-to-earth, sure of himself and devoid of any pretence- everything I would want my children to grow to be.

In a classic case of tough love, he told me to get a grip on myself pronto. He literally would not listen to my wails of horror and in hindsight, it was the right thing to do.

I didn’t need to be pandered to or given time to create a problem for myself. I needed to be told to pull myself together.

Not later, not in a bit. Now.

Neither I nor Grace had done anything wrong and if I was trying to drive myself mad in addition to ruining his Saturday night, I was succeeding .

Humbled, I shut up.

That episode finally made me see things in a different light.

I can’t say I’m not worried about how my actions or behaviour will affect my children in school, but it can’t come at any price.

They need a mother sure of herself and her convictions, not one who cries over a child’s goodie bag.

Like Grace's dad said: "What other people think of you is none of your business."

I've since found out that I'm not the first mum to have this happen and much as I hate to admit it, this brings me immense comfort.

There's only so many toys to go round, after all!