Expat Travel Mom

This year, my girls wanted a Hello Kitty party. She's big out here, a Sanrio store in nearly every mall, guest appearances more often than you'd expect. They'd barely known who she was before we moved, and now they're completely smitten.

Party Planning From Scratch

Letting my creative party-planning side loose here has been its own kind of challenge. No Michael's, no JoAnn's, no Target, not even a real Dollar Store. Even tissue paper can be hard to track down and pricier than you'd expect (for the record, Paper Chase carries it, about 15 AED for 5 sheets, roughly $4). No garage sales to raid for mismatched shabby chic finds or vintage dessert bowls. And with my kids' birthdays landing in June and September, some of the hottest months of the year, I'm stuck with indoor venues by default. Add it all up, and for the first time, I found myself hosting a party at a local venue instead of doing it all myself.

A note for any fellow OCD party planners: using a venue means giving up control, and giving up your own homemade treats along with it. Prepare for something not landing exactly as planned.

The Golf Club Setup

I chose the golf club here in town, green lawns, a full playground to keep the kids busy, both indoor and outdoor space for entertaining, and best of all, someone else doing the cooking and cleaning while I actually got to relax. The girls colored Hello Kitty pictures, played on the trampoline and swings, took a swing at a custom-crafted piñata, and there was no shortage of giggling.

The tables were dressed in white linens with a bubble gum pink satin runner down the middle, white china at every setting, perfect for a little girls' tea party. Each place had a Hello Kitty water bottle labeled with a name I'd hand-lettered myself, plus a party hat and blower. Pink lemonade with a pink straw waited at every seat. A tissue paper flower bouquet I'd made on skewers sat at the center of the table, and on the dessert table, individual party favor bags, designed to match my girls' dresses, filled with Hello Kitty silly bands and jelly beans, topped with pinwheels I'd made too. I even made a matching sign for above the cake table. I would have loved cake pops and a full pink-and-white dessert spread, but venues typically don't allow outside food. Even without it, the whole setup looked genuinely sweet. So far, my vision had actually come together.

Lunch in Translation

Then it was time for lunch, and that's where the "giving up control" part of the note above really kicked in. Between the language differences and hoping everyone landed on the same interpretation of the menu, I thought I'd been clear, I'd even handed over pictures from my own inspiration board. What came out told a different story. Instead of petite peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we got monstrous peanut butter and Jell-O sandwiches. Instead of yogurt parfaits with fresh fruit, we got yogurt parfaits topped with the jelly meant for the sandwiches. The girls took a few bites each and moved on. The adults, though, laughed, snapped photos, and declared it an instant classic, joking that peanut butter and Jell-O sandwiches were about to become the next big thing.

The Cake

Anyone who knows me knows I always make my own cakes. Not allowed to bring in outside food this time, I did the next best thing, I made my requirements crystal clear. No fondant, ever, buttercream only. Bright red and pale pink with white, matching the invitations and my girls' dresses exactly. Inspiration photo included, once again.

Out came the cake, and my face fell before I could stop it. Fondant. A burnt, deep red rather than the bright shade I'd asked for. And it was frozen. Not remotely my vision, and my disappointment showed more than I meant it to. My friends were having a great time regardless, food and all. The girls didn't care one bit, they had no idea what I'd actually ordered, only I did. Hostess party foul number one: don't let your disappointment show. Odds are, no one notices the difference but you.

My girls loved every second of it, and thanked me over and over. Other little girls went home asking their own moms for a party just like it, at the same golf club. If people are still talking about it, loving it, wanting one of their own, that's a win, no matter how many small things went sideways along the way. By the time we were driving home, I was finally able to laugh about the whole thing. Not easy for me, if I'm honest, but the grins on my girls' faces were all that actually mattered. Not some crummy, frozen fondant cake.