my mother birthday party essay

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My Mother’s Birthday, Essay Example

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Words: 1460

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Someone said: “Motherhood is the most merciful love”. Someone said: “Motherhood is the most tolerant of love”. There is nothing stronger and purer than maternal love. It is a unique bond between the child and his mother, and the first real love a child experiences the moment he is born. My life has taught me that maternal love is equally self-giving, generous, unmercenary, and irreplaceable. It is unique. It is unstoppable and never-ending. It is the greatest miracle a child witnesses and experiences from the very first until the very last day of his life. The selfless and unrequited character of maternal love turns our mothers into the carriers of unique life philosophy and vision, which we accept, comprehend, and later transfer to our own children.

It was a routine summer day in 2000. I woke up early, opened the window, and spread my arms to welcome the new day. I felt greedy to grasp and feel the sense of fresh and chilly air on my skin and in my lungs. For a moment, I thought the air could touch my soul. Suddenly, I realized the significance of the day. It was no longer routine, but filled with unbelievable expectations – that was the day when my mother had been born. It was my mother’s birthday – the day that was equally significant for me and the most special person in my life. I was standing in front of the window, trying to imagine my mother’s face and her mood on that special day. However, I could not wait any longer and had to act quickly, to be able to prepare my surprise before she could see me.

I gathered all pocket money I had, to buy a perfect gift for my mother. I must say that I had been extremely thorough in my pocket expenses, trying to save as much as I could to surprise my mom on that special day. I left the house, thinking about my mother and my love to her. I walked down the road, thinking of how my mother would react when she saw my present. I knew she would be surprised. I felt she would be delighted. I was confident she would smile and whisper “thank you, darling”. I expected that my present would make her feel special and loved. I walked down the road, thinking of how good or hurtful I had been toward my mother over the last year. No, our relations had never been perfect. We could argue and even quarrel, but those rare instances never spoiled the unique bond we longed to preserve and expand. It was a unique sense of belonging which we experienced every single second of our lives. Birthday was a perfect occasion to prove my commitment to my mother. It was a perfect way to make my mother feel valued and recognized. That was the day when I could finally reveal my gratitude for everything my mother had done for me.

With so much on my mind, I did not notice how I approached a small mall. To a large extent, it was a subconscious move I could not control. I went in without thinking of the amount of money I held in my pocket. I was wandering across the lines of products and wonderfully beautiful things, until I realized that the money I had could not suffice to bring my mother a decent gift. With the sense of sorrow, regret, and disappointment I had to leave. I was standing in the middle of the parking lot, thinking of what I would have to do. I got extremely reasonable and thorough. I knew my finances were scarce, but I could not let my mother go without a present. I decided to visit several different malls, and that was, probably, the best decision I could take at the moment. I decided not to give up. I would be persistent and reasonable in my search for the best birthday present. However, the next series of visits to smaller and larger malls went without any result. I was growing nervous. I was losing time but did not find anything even close to what would suit my mother and the remarkable birthday occasion. Suddenly, I saw a small roadside shop and reluctantly walked inside.

The first thought that happened to me when I entered the store was “What am I doing here?” I was surrounded by a variety of smaller and bigger items, the ones which people traditionally buy on their way to other places. The name “roadside store” told everything for itself, and I doubted I would find anything nice there. The cashier man might have noticed my hesitation, because I heard the traditional, even impersonal may-I-help-you question. The question expressed more duty than genuine willingness to help and sounded extremely automatic. I answered, “I am looking for a birthday gift for my mother, but I feel ashamed to say that I do not have enough money in my pocket”. Suddenly, the cashier’s face grew serious, and he uttered: “The best gift you can give your mother is love!” I left the roadside store, thinking what the cashier man meant when he talked about love and what I could do to express my love and gratitude to my mother. Money no longer mattered. I felt that there was something else, more valuable than money. So, I was developing a new strategy of birthday celebration for my mom.

I decided that to cook a meal for my mother would be an excellent way to celebrate her birthday. I went into the kitchen, filled with excitement and anticipation. Everything in the kitchen was familiar to me, but suddenly I realized how I missed cooking for my parents. The years at school burdened me with all sorts of responsibilities, leaving no time for real family pastime. I felt an urgent sense of guilt and something I had been missing for ages. Suddenly, I heard my mother coming out her room. The steps approaching, I had to take fast decision. Longevity noodles were everything I could think of at that time.

I was rushing around the kitchen. Everything turned into a mess. I had to do everything quickly, not to spoil the birthday picture. I heard my mother coming from the outside and rushed to meet her. Upon eeeing me in the kitchen, my mother smiled secretly and genuinely. She saw the noodles… Her look was strange, anticipating, surprised, and – oh my goodness! – grateful! She was grateful, and I felt so much appreciated for everything I had done to make my mother’s birthday special! My mother smiled while I was singing a birthday song and in a second, her black hair seemed to go white. With a tint of bitterness in my voice, I asked: “Anything wrong?” My mother raised her eyes, – they were filled with tears: “This is the best birthday I ever had in my life”…

I am standing in front of my window… Ten years have passed since the moment I heard those words. I can see my mother, sitting in front of me with a plate of longevity noodles and smiling. I can see myself running from store to store, searching for something I did not know I was holding in my hands; and in my heart. I look into the sky. Clouds are passing me by, and no one can imagine how much my mother’s birthday has changed my life. Even millions are not enough to get someone to love you for who you are. Even billions cannot secure you from tragic mistakes and failures. Material things are a double-edged sword – they can be equally valuable and killing. They can be useful and cold. They can be surprising and unimportant. The value of life is in being able to show love and affection every day. The value of life is in trying to remind someone of how loved and cherished they are. To love someone is a daily work. It is like sports – once you stop, you lose your skills and grow weaker. There is nothing better than to know somebody loves you, unconditionally and passionately. There is nothing better than to act as if you always miss an opportunity to show your love to others. “I will never forget that day,” – I keep saying to myself. I grab my suitcase and leave the house. Fresh air and street noise beat my face. I stop and look back into the window, to see my reflection… I pick up the phone and call my mother… and in a moment, I am on my way to the next point of no-return which, no matter the distance, cannot reduce the feelings of closeness and connectedness that follow me everywhere… thank you…

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11 Magnolia Lane

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My Mom’s Surprise Birthday Party Celebration

May 13, 2018 By Amy 4 Comments

This Post Contains Affiliate Links

I don’t think there could be a better day to share my mom’s surprise birthday party celebration, after all, it is Mother’s Day! I hope all of you who are moms are getting spoiled rotten today 🙂

Last weekend we pulled off a major celebration, and a surprise one at that, for one of the most important people in my life- my mom. She’s not a stranger around here, in fact, she’s graciously allowed me to show you all her beautiful bathroom , her screened porch and her living room so sharing her birthday party seems perfectly fitting too.

party invitation available here

Back in January, my dad called me and said he’d booked a surprise birthday party for my mom in early May and that my brother and his family would be flying in for it, and then my parents left for Florida for the remainder of winter.  I set about ordering the invitations (from my go-to, Minted ) and making the plans. We were overjoyed to find out that many of my mom’s friends and relatives were willing to come into town for the surprise, some she hadn’t seen in many years. Since he’d arranged to have the party at a local country club, there wasn’t much work for me to do outside of invitations, flower arrangements, decorations, and ordering dessert.

The flowers alone were one of the hits of the evening, Instagram is such a great resource, on there I’d seen mentions of a flower wholesaler from South America where you could order bulk hydrangeas. Knowing I’d need several large table arrangments and being a huge hydrangea fan, I crossed my fingers and placed an order for 35 white hydrangea stems to be delivered two days before the party. If you follow our Instagram stories then last week you heard me repeatedly rave about how beautiful the flowers were. In fact, it’s now a week post-delivery and many of the stems are still going strong. They were gorgeous! All I did was trim them and stick them in some inexpensive glass vases from Hobby Lobby and place them in the center of each table.

I decided to skip ordering a traditional cake and instead get cupcakes, that way we’d have something for everyone including those of us who are gluten-free. I picked up several dozen cupcakes from a local bakery and used existing stands, thankfully one of my BFF’s (and former co-blogger) Terry, is an event planner and she loaned me some vases and cupcake stands.

I ordered a printable sign from HERE (and personalized it in photoshop) and a banner from HERE to decorate the dessert table. The kids could not wait till the cupcakes were served, they were definitely a hit.

So now that I have shared the (easy) party details, here is the good stuff. Somehow we pulled off a semi-surprise celebration, which was a bit of a feat with someone as sharp as my mom. While she knew we were having dinner at the same venue to celebrate her birthday, she didn’t expect the crowd that greeted her when she arrived.

My daughter and my beautiful niece were the welcoming committee. They greeted the guests as they arrived and assisted with finding place cards and seating, they were such a huge help. Sidenote: my daughter’s pretty pink silk dress was a pass down from Christy’s daughter Annabelle. I am so happy she had a special occasion to wear it!

Here’s another picture of my mom with her granddaughters, it was taken at our girls’ lunch earlier in the day. I can only hope I inherit my mother’s agelessness! She has four other grandchildren as well, four boys, but we didn’t invite them to join us for lunch ????.

Here is a picture of my immediate family, and this one is fun because now that we have spouses, kids, grandchildren etc. it’s so rare to have a picture taken of our original family 🙂 . That’s my ‘little’ brother, the last time he was on this blog it was during the Hurricane Harvey relief efforts, so here is a chance to show you how nice he looks when not in a horrible natural disaster! My mom and dad celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary last summer, they are just the two best people I know.

Here is my mom with her cousin, Marion, who is a faithful blog reader. She was one of the guests that made a huge effort to attend the party and surprise my mom with her presence. It’s rare that you have the opportunity to celebrate the person that always does the celebrating. My mom has always been the one to make sure everyone is recognized. She hosts wonderful holiday family dinners, is the one who will drop off flowers (often from her beautiful garden) if she knows you are having a bad day and is always the first to raise her hand to help when needed. Everyone that knows her knows her generous spirit, her love for her family and friends and her faith-filled, servant’s heart; she is one of the most giving people you will ever meet.

Since we knew that she’d be more than a little overwhelmed at the party, I scheduled a smaller brunch at my home the next day. That way the guests that had traveled in town could stop by and spend a little more time with her before heading home. I took a few quick shots of the table, it was a very casual event just with store-bought pastries and repurposed party decor.

The pretty paper plates were from HomeGoods and I served a fruit water in a large glass container I borrowed from Terry, along with pots and pots of coffee!

It was a wonderful celebration; one that my family will remember for years to come. I am so grateful I have the mother I have, it’s not lost on me at this stage of my life how fortunate I am she is in my life. Please, on Mother’s Day, also be sure to read Christy’s post about her lovely mother, who was also one of the best people I knew, you can read it HERE .

Party Sources~

Invitations

Cupcake Stands (similar)

Printable Sign

Printable Banner

My Gray Dress

My Daughter’s Pink Dress

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Can we bring back old school birthday parties, please?

Elzbieta Sekowska/Shutterstock

I love birthdays. I do not love the pressure to create some kind of over-the-top birthday euphoria.

By Christine Organ February 5, 2024

When I was a kid, my most memorable birthday party was one my mom hosted in the backyard with a bunch of neighbor kids. We played Pin the Tail on the Donkey and ate cake. It was a simple birthday party —but a good one.

By contrast, by the time my child was 10, he’d already been invited to multiple birthday parties that involved ponies. And we’re not talking a visit to a local farm either (though we did go to a party like that too, which was pretty awesome, IMO). No, we’re talking ponies—in the yard.

The child in me was more than a little envious. A pony! In the yard! This had literally been my childhood dream. But as an adult, it all just seemed a little unnecessary. And I found myself feeling a bit nostalgic for the old school, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey birthday parties of my childhood. Ah, the good ol’ days…

For the most part, I’ve managed to escape the over-the-top birthday party trend that’s been brewing for the past decade or two. Over the years, we’ve had cupcake parties in the park, a couple parties at a trampoline gym, and a ton of parties in our backyard . Now, that my kids are older—aside from the time my 15-year-old asked to take eight teen boys to Fogo de Chão (ummm… nope )—the most common request is to have a sleepover with handful of friends to watch movies and play Xbox. We order a bunch of cheap pizzas and brace ourselves for little sleep—and a good time is had by all.

Even though we’ve mostly had low-key backyard birthday parties, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I sometimes feel the pressure to compete with the birthday party brigade. I’ve splurged on a birthday party with 20+ kids at a chocolate store. I’ve paid a boatload of money for some fancy cake after I’d seen it on Facebook only to have the cake destroyed within minutes. And I’ve regretted it.

I love birthdays. I do not love the pressure to create some kind of over-the-top birthday euphoria. 

Y’all, can we please bring back the ‘80s and ‘90s-style birthday parties? You know, the ones where our over-worked moms who didn’t have access to Pinterest whipped up a box cake mix the night before and then let us decorate the cake ourselves. The ones where kids left with a sugar high instead of a goody bag filled to the brim with presents as if it was their birthday. The ones where a bowling party or a trip to the swimming pool was considered extravagant. 

Because those birthday parties were  the   bomb .

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t ever splurge on a party for our children, or that you shouldn’t get caught up in birthday party planning if that’s what brings you joy. If making elaborate cakes is you living your best life, lean on in to that. I will  oohhh  and  ahhhh  over your skills with buttercream and royal icing. If sewing costumes for a Harry Potter or Star Wars-themed birthday party floats your boat, go for it. If you want to pay for a photo booth, a magician and a ginormous balloon arch, I love that for you. 

I do not, however, love that for me. 

I love casual get-togethers and stress-free parties where the kids play and the parents chat over a couple adult bevies. I do not love crafting or decorating cakes or planning party themes.  

Related: Confession: I love birthdays but could do without the parties

I love celebrating my kids. I do not love going into debt and running myself ragged to give them some kind of over-the-top birthday party they might not even want and likely won’t be that fun.

Can we normalize giving our kids casual and simple birthday parties ? Can we celebrate the unspectacular? Can we bring back the no-fuss, uncomplicated birthday parties that we enjoyed as kids? 

Because I don’t know about you but I’m  tired.  I don’t have the time or energy to plan something glamorous or elaborate. Besides…haphazard, low-key and semi-chaotic birthday parties are my favorite kind of party. After all, childhood itself is already pretty darn spectacular as it is. 

A version of this story was originally published on Sept. 29, 2022. It has been updated.

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• My Birthday Party Essay

My Birthday Party Essay for Kids

Here’s a humble attempt from our end at providing kids with a clear idea of how they can write an impressive My Birthday Party essay. Through such an essay, kids can express what they love about their birthday parties. 

Birthdays are special to everyone, especially to kids. Children enjoy celebrating birthdays with their family and friends. In this essay, we have tried to cover all the important aspects of birthday parties that fascinate kids. 

My Birthday Party essay has been written in a very simple language so that children can grasp it well and rephrase it along with their own ideas and thoughts.  The 10 lines simple essay on my birthday party can be downloaded in beautiful PDF format through the link provided below. 

Download Free PDF – “My Birthday Party Essay for Kids”

My birthday party essay in english.

• Birthdays are very special and celebrating them has become a part and parcel of our lives.
• My name is Rohan and my birthday falls on the 21 st of March.
• Every year, I wait eagerly for my birthday.
• My parents celebrate my birthday with a lot of zeal.
• All my relatives, friends and neighbours are invited to my birthday party.
• I get new clothes to wear to my school and for the party on my birthdays.
• My father, along with my sister, decorate the house with balloons and colourful stickers.
• My mother makes delicious dishes and sweets for the party. She also buys ice cream and chocolates from the nearby bakery.
• On my last birthday, my father and mother gifted me a robust red-coloured bicycle. I also received many presents and best wishes from everyone who visited my birthday party.
• I am fond of birthdays and I am grateful to my father and mother for celebrating my birthday with so much love and excitement every year.

We hope you enjoyed reading My Birthday Party essay in English given above. Students of primary classes can go through the essay and try to frame essays on this topic in simple words. Essays are a way to express one’s thoughts and feelings about a certain topic. The above written 10 lines simple essay on My Birthday Party has also been drafted keeping in mind the thought process of a kid.

My Birthday Party essay is a wonderful topic for kids to test their writing prowess based on their understanding. We have a huge collection of such exciting essays for kids on various frequently asked essay topics.

If you wish to have access to more of such cool learning resources for your little one, like general knowledge questions, worksheets, poems, stories, trivia questions, etc., you must explore our Kids Learning section.

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Essay on My Most Memorable Birthday Celebration

Students are often asked to write an essay on My Most Memorable Birthday Celebration in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on My Most Memorable Birthday Celebration

Title: my most memorable birthday celebration, introduction.

My birthday is always special, but one stands out from the rest. My tenth birthday was the most memorable. I had been looking forward to it for months.

The Surprise

My parents had planned a surprise party. They invited all my friends without telling me. When I came home from school, I was shocked to see my house decorated with balloons and streamers.

The party was full of fun. We played games, danced, and enjoyed delicious food. My friends gave me lovely gifts which I still cherish.

That birthday was a day full of joy and surprises. It remains the most memorable birthday I have ever had.

250 Words Essay on My Most Memorable Birthday Celebration

My most memorable birthday celebration was my tenth birthday. I remember it clearly because it was filled with joy and surprises. This special day is still fresh in my mind and I often look back on it with a smile.

The Day Begins

The day started with my parents waking me up with a birthday song. They gifted me a new bicycle, something I had wanted for a long time. I was over the moon with joy. After breakfast, my friends started to arrive for the party.

The Surprise Party

My parents had planned a surprise party for me. They had decorated the house with balloons and colorful streamers. There was a big cake with my name on it. My friends and I played many games like musical chairs and pass the parcel.

The Special Gift

During the gift-opening time, I received many presents. But, the most special gift was from my grandmother. She gave me a handmade sweater. She had knitted it herself, and it was the warmest and most beautiful sweater I had ever seen.

My tenth birthday was indeed the most memorable one. The joy of receiving my dream bicycle, the surprise party, and the special gift from my grandmother made it unforgettable. This day reminded me of the love and care my family and friends have for me. It was a day filled with laughter, joy, and love, a day I will always cherish.

500 Words Essay on My Most Memorable Birthday Celebration

Everyone has special days in their life, and birthdays are one of them. My most memorable birthday celebration was my 10th birthday. I remember it clearly because it was filled with joy, laughter, and surprises.

Planning the Celebration

The big day.

Finally, the day arrived. I woke up to the smell of my favorite breakfast, pancakes with maple syrup. After breakfast, I was asked to stay in my room until the guests arrived. I could hear the sound of balloons popping and people talking outside my room. I was curious but waited patiently.

When I was finally allowed to leave my room, I was amazed. The whole house was decorated with superhero posters, balloons, and banners. There were also life-sized cutouts of my favorite superheroes. I was dressed as my favorite superhero, Spiderman. My friends were dressed as different superheroes too. Seeing all my friends in superhero costumes was so much fun.

The party started with fun games. We played ‘Pin the Mask on Spiderman’, ‘Superhero Relay Race’, and ‘Find the Superhero’. Everyone enjoyed the games. Then, we had a magic show which was very entertaining. After the magic show, we had a delicious lunch. The menu included pizza, burgers, and ice cream, all my favorites.

The Birthday Cake

The highlight of the day was the birthday cake. It was a superhero-themed cake with all my favorite superheroes on it. When I blew out the candles, everyone clapped and sang the birthday song. It was a magical moment that I will never forget.

Gifts and Goodbyes

After the cake-cutting, it was time to open the gifts. I received many gifts, including superhero action figures, comic books, and video games. I was overjoyed. As the party ended, each of my friends received a goodie bag filled with candies and small toys. The happiness on their faces made my day even more special.

In conclusion, birthdays are special days that bring joy and happiness. They are a celebration of life and growth. My 10th birthday was indeed a memorable celebration, and I will always cherish it.

That’s it! I hope the essay helped you.

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Home | Life | Family | Mother | My Mother

My Mother’s Birthday Party

• Updated July 25, 2023
• Pages 3 (611 words)
• Any subject
• Within the deadline
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A cold winter, four years ago, my mother’s birthday was approaching, she was getting old. My mother was turning fifty years old. My mom does not ask for much but she wanted to spend quality time with the family on her birthday. My dad on the other hand had another idea in mind. He decided to throw her a surprise birthday party, but my mother hates surprises. No one knew how this would turn out, the outcome could be great or an epic fail.

My parents have six children, including me. Five of us were in America and one of my brothers was in Ghana. My dad thought that if all the children spoke at her party in our language which is called Ashanti then that would make the party extraordinary. When my father first explained his idea I liked the thought, but then I realized that I would have to speak as well. At that time I was an extremely shy person, especially in front of crowds. My dad gave us the option to go up to the stage and speak or not, but he mostly wanted me to speak, because I was the youngest and he thought it would be adorable.

The next day when my mother went to work, I pulled my dad aside to talk to him and tell him that I would love to speak at my mother’s party. I could tell that he was ecstatic about the decision I made. My father and I agreed that he would help me write my speech in Ashanti to wow the crowd (we practiced daily to help me memorize the speech better.) I was getting tired, but I knew I had no choice if I wanted to impress my mother. All I could think about was the smile my mom would have on her face when I spoke. Days were passing and the time for the party was getting closer.

Finally the day of the party was here. I was excited and anxious at the same time. Every time someone would call my name, I would get jumpy. I was nervous, and I was afraid that I would go up there and forget my lines. I knew too much worrying was not going to help, so I decided to lock myself in my room and relax. My dad and my brothers were out the whole day fixing up the recreational center, where the party was being held and when they came home my dad said we were going out to eat, so we should get dressed.

When we finally arrived at the recreational center, my mom went inside and everyone screamed “surprise!” My mother was in total shock she ran out with tears of joy. We danced, laughed, ate, and enjoyed the party. The host came up and said that the children all have contributions for their wonderful mother. My mother looked shocked, but in a positive way. I saw eyes staring at me, they handed me the microphone first, because I was the youngest. I was trembling in fear, and my hands were shaking, but I went up there and said my contribution and I did magnificent! The crowd was yelling and clapping, because I did such a great job speaking Ashanti so well. After that moment I was relieved; I felt as if a heavy burden was lifted off of my shoulder. When we came home, my mom told me I did the best out of my siblings and she was so proud to see me up there although I was shy.

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Essay On ‘My Birthday’ For Classes 1, 2 & 3

Key Points To Remember When Writing an Essay on ‘My Birthday’ for Classes 1, 2 and 3

10 lines on ‘my birthday party’ for class 1 kids, short paragraph on ‘my birthday party’, long paragraph on my birthday party for kids, what will your 1st, 2nd or 3rd grader learn from ‘my birthday party’ essay.

Birthdays are the most special day of the year for children. It is a day full of celebrations where children enjoy many fun activities, party with their friends and family, receive a lot of gifts and of course… make a wish as they blow the candle on their special birthday cake! These are all fun, and memorable moments, which children will remember for a long time. So, while writing an essay on this topic, they will indeed have a lot of ideas. With a little bit of help in putting together these ideas, you can guide your child to compose a good essay. Here are tips on how to write an essay on ‘My Birthday’ for students of classes 1, 2 and 3:

• When writing essays about birthday parties in a few lines, stick to simple facts about your birthday and celebrations.
• Avoid elaborating on any point and state only its gist in one line.
• When writing it in a small paragraph, start by describing why your birthday means so much to you.
• Talk about your birthday and the celebrations you have planned.
• It can help if you add points about how you feel about various events that happen throughout the day.

Children of lower primary classes find it easiest to write an essay in 10 simple lines. After that, they can start learning how to write a more detailed paragraph. Here are 10 lines on ‘My Birthday’:

• My birthday is on January 20. I celebrate it every year with my friends and family.
• We invite my cousins, relatives, and friends home for a party on my birthday.
• My parents always bring the best cake for my birthday.
• Everybody gathers around me to sing the happy birthday song in the evening as I cut the cake.
• After cutting the cake, everybody will enjoy a great treat with delicious food.
• We play games after snack time. Birthday games are always fun to play. 
• My second-most favourite part of my birthday is getting lots of presents from my friends and cousins.
• I eagerly wait for the end of the party to unwrap my gifts.
• Every year my birthday gets better as I become older and make more friends.
• I can’t wait for my next birthday and all the fun.

When writing a short essay on ‘My Birthday’, it is essential to have your points well thought out. Decide on how to start and touch upon things with minimal detail. Here is how to write this short essay in about 150 words:

My birthday is the most special day in my life. I love my birthday since my parents give me gifts on that day. I cut a cake and have a party with all my friends. This year I got a bicycle for my birthday, and it is the best gift I have received so far! My birthday celebration starts bright and early in the day. I wake up early get ready for school in special clothes for my birthday. We are allowed to skip uniforms on this day. 

The birthday celebration in school is fun. My classmates sing ‘happy birthday’ for me in the morning, and I get to distribute chocolates to everyone. I always carry a few more chocolates and give all my best friends one extra.

The real party starts at home in the evening, and all my closest friends are invited. My family and neighbours also join in the celebration, and we all have a great evening.

Long-form essays are a bit tricky to write for all kids. They need to have a mental picture of the details they need to include and weave a good narrative. Here is a sample of a long essay on ‘My Birthday’:

My birthday is the most awaited event of the year for me. It is the day when I am treated extra special and get a free pass for everything! I always have my birthdays planned out. If it is a school day, I have to attend as usual but after school, I have a party planned in the evening with friends and neighbours. If it is a day off from school, my parents usually take me out during the day. We go to my favourite place and have fun. Then, we go back home and have more fun at the party in the evening.

My parents always plan for my birthdays beforehand, so that everything goes smoothly. On my birthday, I get to decide what clothes to wear, select the cake, plan party games and decide other such details almost a week before my birthday so everything is ready just in time. My parents always get me the cake of my choice, and it is a new design every year. This year it was the Avengers, my favourite superheroes. I always invite my friends from school and the neighbourhood to my birthday party so that we can enjoy ourselves together.

If my birthday falls on a school day, I wear special clothes to school for the day because we are allowed to skip our uniform that day. I carry two bags of chocolates to share with all my classmates. Birthdays are always fun because the teachers and classmates treat me extra special. I like distributing chocolates to everyone in my class, and always give one extra to all my friends.

At home, we have the party planned out for the evening. By the time I return from school, my mother decorates the house and has the place all set for the party. All my friends arrive in the evening, and we cut the cake soon after. My mother makes delicious snacks for all of us, which we lap up happily. We also play many games and have the most fun time. In the end, it is time to open the presents. I start unwrapping all my gifts as soon as everyone leaves. This is my favourite part of the entire day, as I always have to wait to see what I might receive in every new box!

The essay on ‘My Birthday’ teaches your child to write about their experiences and thoughts in simple English. Although children have ideas about what they want to write in the essay, they may not always be able to put it into words. With these samples, they will get some ideas about how to word their thoughts and write a good essay.

Some children may also want to write about their plans for their birthday coming up soon. They may have many ideas and thoughts about how they would like to celebrate their day. Writing this essay will help them think about how to plan a day and will encourage them to write from their imagination. 

This topic also encourages children to appreciate all the special ways in which their birthday is celebrated, and be grateful to all the people who help make it fun and memorable.

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Essay on Birthday Party in English for Students & Children

We are Sharing an Essay on Birthday Party in English for students and children. In this article, we have tried our best to provide a short My Birthday Party Essay for Classes 2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12 in 100, 150, 200, 300, 500 words.

Essay on Birthday Party in English for Students & Children

Essay on My Birthday Party in 150 words

We all have our birthday party once every year on our birthday. On my birthday my father brings a big cake. We place candles on the cake. There is one candle for each year after my birth. When I am ten there will be ten candles on my cake. The cake is specially made for the occasion with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it. When all my friends come and we are ready to have the cake, the candles on it are lit. We make secret wishes. Then the candles are blown out and the cake is cut to give the pieces.to all. All my friends say ‘happy birthday to you and eat the cake. Then we play games and enjoy the fun. Besides the cake, we have sandwiches, sweets, and fruits to eat. But the porridge my mother prepares on the occasion is what I like most. I feel very important in my beautiful new dress. How I wish there were many birthdays every year!

A Birthday Party Essay in 250 to 300 words

My friend and neighbour, Natasha, turned five years old recently and her parents held a birthday party for her. All the kids in the neighbourhood were invited. I was one of those invited. The party began at 6:30 p.m. at the house of the birthday girl. She wore a beautiful new dress. About twenty children were there. All of them were in their best clothes. Natasha’s mother served soft drinks to the guests. Then we had a round of games like ‘musical chairs’, ‘treasure hunt’ etc. It was fun and enjoyable. The winners were given prizes. By now more children had come to the party.

It was time to move on to the next program. A huge cake was brought out and put in the middle of the hall. The cake had five candles on it indicating the age of the birthday girl. The guests sang “Happy Birthday to Natasha” in the chorus as she cut the cake and blew the candles. The children clapped their hands in joy. Balloons were burst and cake pieces were served to all the guests. This was followed by giving and receiving gifts. All the guests gave presents to the girl and wished her all the best. In turn, all the children were also given gifts. By then it was 8 p.m. All the people were hungry and tired. Soon dinner was served. We all had our food which was quite delicious.

Shortly afterward people started leaving thanking the hosts for an enjoyable evening. I was also eager to go home and look at the present I had got. I wished Natasha all the best and slowly left the place.

Essay on Birthday Party in English ( 400 words )

Everybody likes to celebrate his birthday but children are particularly fond of celebrating their birthday. I turned twelve last month. I decided to celebrate my birthday with the usual pomp and show. I invited all my friends and relatives to my birthday party which was to be held in the evening on that particular day. My friends and I had decorated the room well with balloons and bunting where the party was to be held.

It became difficult for me to decide which dress I should wear for the party. Different friends of mine suggested different dresses. Finally, I chose the pink dress which had been sent by my aunt from Paris. Everybody at the party appreciated my dress. The guests started coming in the afternoon. By the evening, our house was full of guests and my friends.

I was glad to note that all my relatives and friends whom I had invited, had reached punctually. I blew twelve candles which were placed on the chocolate bedecked charming cake baked by a renowned baker of the town. Everybody clapped loudly.

As I started cutting the cake, all the guests and my friends spoke out in chorus “Happy Birthday to you.” Then everybody was given a piece of cake and drinks.

My father had also arranged an elaborate orchestra for the occasion. The tunes displayed by the orchestra were, indeed, marvelous and everybody there automatically started dancing to the sweet melodious tunes.

Then the dinner was held after which a brief session of skits, titbits, and jokes was held. My friend Savita, was declared the best clown for her mimicry, funny talks, and titbits. She was given a precious watch as a prize by my father.

As the guests left, I was tempted to have a glance at the gifts I had received. I found all the gifts precious since they were presented with genuine love and affection. The monetary value of a gift could not sway me to value any gift more or less than others. It is thus that even at this tender age I have realized that money does not always rule the roost.

# Paragraph on Birthday Party for kids # Essay on Birthday Party celebration # essay on birthday party of my friend

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Short Essay on My Birthday Party [With Headings]

Introduction.

Every year, the 9th of March is the most awaited day for me. This is because it is my birth date. I am a specifically treated person this day. All my friends and loved ones start to wish me from midnight. Some of them text me from their phones and others call me.

My parents love me more intensely to this day. They treat me like I am a newborn baby. I feel myself to be grateful to God for blessing me with all these people. According to myself, a birthday party is an enjoyable event in one’s life.

Schedule Of The Day

I and my family begin preparation for the birthday celebration right in the morning. My father takes me to the market for shopping new birthday clothes. My mother cooks a lot of delicious dishes for me and my friends. My siblings decorate the birthday area. The full birthday room is decorated with different lighting, a lot of balloons, Photo frames etc.

When I feel that all this is being done for me, I feel very special and thankful to God. In the evening, my father carries the special birthday cake with my name inscribed on it. I do not get tired all day long.

The Birthday Celebration

As it gets dark all my friends start coming to share my happiness and joy. They carry a lot of different gifts for me. I prepare to cut the cake when everyone has come. Everyone sings the “Happy birthday to you” song for me while I cut the cake. All my friends start to blow out balloons.

After the cake cutting, I feed the cake to my parents first then my friends and loved ones. Following all that, music starts where me, my family and my friends dance to Bollywood tracks. All of us then enjoy delicious treats prepared by my mother.

In conclusion, My birthday celebration makes me aware of how social life is important for us. When we gather to enjoy an event of life, people make that event a more intense celebration. This is a day when we feel that everyone is there for us and we are not alone. So, This day works for me as a motivational pill whenever I feel low on confidence.

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My Birthday Party Essay for School Students [Easy Words*]

February 8, 2021 by Sandeep

Birthday Party Essay: Birthdays are celebrated in the most gracious way as they come once a year. Inviting friends and relatives for cute parties at home and treating them with special celebrations bring in happiness and joy on the day. Elders pour their blessings and wish them a long journey ahead in life. Parents decorate their houses, arrange lighting and music systems, and spread tables with lovely snacks, juices and desserts for everyone to have a great feast.

Below we have provided a short composition on my birthday party, useful for paragraph and essay writing competitions.

Essay on My Birthday Party 200 Words in English

We have provided My Birthday Party Essay, suitable for class 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6.

My birthday is my favourite day of the entire year. Not because of the presents or the cake or the decorations, but rather because of the special attention and love I get from my close friends and family. The thought of being a year older is always surreal and exciting. I don’t normally like to have birthday parties, but my small surprise birthday party last year was unique and very special.

Some people wouldn’t really define it as a party, because I didn’t have lots of guests and I didn’t play party games. It was my first week at university, and to celebrate my birthday, my friends wished me at 12 AM and gave me plenty of hugs. We decided to watch a movie of my choice, so I chose a horror movie. We ate lots of food, chatted and listened to music, which made for a nice, small party.

Later in the day, I went to see my family, who surprised me with the prettiest birthday cake I’d ever seen. The edge of the cake was completely made of Kit Kat’s, and the top was sprinkled with M&Ms. I blew the candles, cut the cake and cheered as I opened birthday presents. I played around with my younger siblings and watched a movie with them.

I think the reason this birthday party of sorts is memorable for me is because it was my first week in a new place. I was very frightened and nervous, but spending time with friends and family because of my birthday helped me feel more comfortable.

10 Lines on Birthday Party Essay in English

• A birthday is a very special day in a person’s life because that is the anniversary of their birth.
• There are many ways to celebrate a birthday, but a lot of people choose to celebrate them in the form of birthday parties.
• To have a birthday party, one must plan decorations, food, the venue and the invitations in advance.
• It is a tradition to bring birthday presents to a party, so whoever is invited often spends a lot of time focusing on the perfect gift.
• During the birthday party, the birthday person has to thank everyone for coming and take the lead role in gathering people for games or whatever events are planned.
• The main event of a birthday party is the cake cutting while all the guests sing the birthday song and feed the birthday person.
• After the cake cutting, the guests eat the meals provided along with their share of the birthday cake.
• At the end, all the guests leave and the birthday person begins opening their presents.
• The birthday party doesn’t end there- the birthday person and their accomplices also have to clean up the venue and throw away leftover food.
• The best part of the birthday, however, is the time that you get to spend with friends and family, and the resulting memories.

Home — Essay Samples — Life — Birthday — Personal Account of My Birthday Celebration

Personal Account of My Birthday Celebration

• Categories: Birthday

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Published: Feb 12, 2019

Words: 1620 | Pages: 4 | 9 min read

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• Essay on Memorable Day of My Life

500 Words Essay On Memorable Day of My Life

We have different types of days in our lives, some are ordinary while some are special. There are some days that get etched in our memories forever. Likewise, I also have a memorable day of my life that is very dear to me. The memories of this day are engraved in my heart and will remain so forever.

My Birthday- Memorable Day of My Life

My tenth birthday is the most memorable day of my life. It is a day I can never forget and I consider it to be the best birthday yet. The day started just like any other normal day. However, as it kept progressing, a lot of exciting things began to happen.

I woke up very early on my birthday because I had to dress up in casual clothes for school . The day before, all my candies were ready that I would distribute in the classroom.

My mother prepared my favourite breakfast and gave me a big chocolate bar for lunch as well. I went to school and the whole class sang for me and congratulated me. It was the turn to distribute sweets.

My best friend and I went to all the teachers to distribute toffees and we had a great time there. Moreover, it was an incredible feeling. My friends were all singing for me and eager to come to my birthday party later in the evening.

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My Birthday Party

The birthday at my school was memorable but the birthday party at my home made the day even more memorable. Also, my mother invited all my friends from school and the colony to the party.

I received so many presents and we played a lot of games. We played games like musical chairs, tag, egg-and-spoon races, and more. There were so many songs playing so everyone did a special dance too.

The highlight of my birthday party was definitely my huge birthday cake. As I love superheroes, my mother got the cake customized with the superhero theme. It was very tasty too and in my favourite flavour.

I spent a lot of time with my family and friends that day. Everyone liked the return gifts as well and went home with a big smile on their faces.

Conclusion of Essay on Memorable Day of My Life

Therefore, my tenth birthday is the most memorable day of my life. It has given me so many happy memories that will remain with me forever. That day makes me feel blessed and lucky to have all those things in my life.

FAQ on Essay on Memorable Day of My Life

Question 1: What is the meaning of a memorable day?

Answer 1:   When we say memorable, we refer to something that we cannot forget easily or something that left us excited. A memorable day is a day that one can recall easily as it is engraved in the memory.

Question 2: What can be an example of a memorable day?

Answer 2: Some people consider their birthday to be the most memorable day. While some consider it a family trip too. Similarly, some people may find their school picnic or fete to be the most memorable day.

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Essay on My Birthday Party

It was my eighth birthday. My parents gifted me a red bicycle and arranged a big party for me. The house was decorated with streamers and balloons. A special birthday cake was ordered for me. It was a chocolate cake, with juicy cherries on the top.

My grandparents came from Montreal to attend my birthday party. All my friends were also invited. I was very happy to see them. They all brought gifts for me. My mother kept them carefully in my room.

We all wore nice party dresses. My friends blew on whistles when I cut the cake.

After cutting the cake, we played many games. My mother gave prizes to the winners. We then had our dinner.

After dinner, my parents gave gifts to all my friends. My father went to drop them back home. It was a lovely evening. I loved each moment of it.

Speech about My Birthday Party

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Essay on My Birthday Party

 “Party” the word is full of excitement and joy. Just hearing this word can make us happy from sad. Party does not mean just a celebration, but it is much more than that. People usually throw parties when they are happy or when they have something good to share with others. Ultimately, it became a good time for everyone who attends the party. However, the party gets doubled when it is our birthday party. Therefore, to know more about this special occasion, let us discuss My Birthday Party in detail.

My Birthday Party Essay in English

Here, we are presenting long and short essays on My Birthday Party in English for students under word limits of 100 – 150 Words, 200 – 250 words, and 500 – 600 words. This topic is useful for students of classes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 in English. These provided essays will also be helpful for children to take ideas to celebrate their birthday.

10 Lines Essay on My Birthday Party (100 – 120 Words)

1) My birthday party was a special celebration.

2) It was a fun gathering with my family and friends.

3) The party took place at my house.

4) We decorated the living room with colorful balloons.

5) There was a big birthday cake with candles for me.

6) I received many presents that made me really happy.

7) We played games like musical chairs and passing the parcel.

8) I wore my new birthday outfit and felt like a superstar.

9) We took lots of photos to capture the memories of the day.

10) My birthday party was a day to remember forever.

Essay on My Birthday Party (250 – 300 Words)

Introduction

Every year, we look forward to our birthdays with great excitement. It is a day when we celebrate our birth and feel loved by our dear ones. I recently celebrated my birthday party, and it was an unforgettable experience.

My Birthday Party at School

This year my birthday fell on Tuesday, so my parents and I decided to celebrate it at my school. In the morning, my mom packed a delicious cake, snacks, and chocolates. As I entered the classroom, I was greeted by my friends with joyful shouts and cheerful smiles. During the lunch break, my teacher allowed us to set up a mini party in the classroom. Everyone sang the birthday song to me as I cut the cake. Some of my classmates showered me with handmade cards. The party was filled with laughter, joy, and a sense of togetherness.

My Birthday Party at Home

After school, I rushed home, excited to continue the celebration with my family and close friends. The guest room was beautifully decorated with balloons and a birthday banner. When the guests arrived, everyone wished me and I played go many games with my friends. Then finally, I blew the candles on the birthday cake, surrounded by my loved ones singing the birthday song. The cake was delicious, and the celebration was filled with laughter and warm moments of love and affection.

Birthdays are not just about receiving gifts but about creating beautiful memories with the close peoples.My birthday party was a delightful experience that I will cherish forever. Celebrating with my classmates at school and later with my family and friends at home made the day even more special.

Long Essay on My Birthday Party (500 Words)

Party is an occasion when people come together to celebrate and cherish happy moments of life. They are a good ways to stay happy and engage. Parties can be of different types depending on their reasons. However, whatever the reason is, the motive always remain same, to enjoy. One of these special moments is birthday parties. Birthdays are special occasions that we eagerly await each year. It is a time to celebrate with friends and family, and it marks the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

My Birthday Party

My birthday is something I always look forward to, and this year, I had an amazing birthday party that I will cherish forever. My birthday is celebrated on 4 August and this year it was my special 16 th birthday. My birthday party was held at our backyard. My family had decided a grand birthday celebration so we had invited so many people. I invited all my close friends and family, and they were equally excited to celebrate the special day with me.

Special Preparation of My Birthday

Days before my birthday, my parents and I were busy getting everything ready for the party. My parents bought new clothes for me along with matching sandals and jewelry. We also bought return gifts for everyone. All of us together prepared a list of guests and invited them for birthday party. On the day of celebration, we decorated the room with colorful balloons, decorating papers, and banners. As it was my 16 th birthday, everyone was excited and the decorations were done only with pink color. I also helped my mother in making dishes.

Celebration and Enjoyment

On the day of the party, everyone arrived with smiles on their faces and a gift in their hands. At the start of the party, everyone is greeted and served with refreshments. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and joy as we began the celebrations. We took lots of pictures. After that, we danced on our favorite songs and played games. Now it was time to blow candles and cut the cake. It was truly a moment of joy as everyone sang the birthday song. After having cakes, we all had some delicious dinner.

Gifts and Surprises

One of the most exciting parts of any birthday party is receiving gifts. When the party was over, I took the gifts out of their boxes. I didn’t expect to find so many nice gifts. My friends and family had chosen presents thoughtfully, and I was very happy to see them. My birthday party was a truly memorable experience. I felt loved and appreciated as my friends and family came together to celebrate with me.

Birthdays are important events for everyone. It makes us feel special on that day. Birthdays are not just about growing older; they are an opportunity to celebrate life and create cherished memories. I will forever be grateful for the love and joy that surrounded me on my birthday.

I hope the above provided essay on My Birthday Party will be helpful to know different ways to throw a birthday party.

FAQs: Frequently Asked Questions on My Birthday Party

Ans. A birthday is an important event that should be remembered. A birthday is about much more than getting presents. Birthdays are important, and they are a special time of the year when family and friends get together to celebrate the person’s life and experiences.

Ans. Like every tradition, birthday gifts have evolved. The Romans started the birthday celebrations. They started birthday presents by throwing elaborate parties and showering the gifts to the person. Giving a gift to someone on their birthday is a way to show how much we care about them.

Ans. People can celebrate their birthday in the places like in a restaurant or in their house. People can also celebrate birthdays by planning tours or visiting their favorite spots. 

Ans. One can surprise their mother by helping her in the kitchen. Gifts like jewelry, makeup, clothes, bangles, etc can bring her smile. Kids can also gift her handmade birthday cards.

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My Mother, the Gambler

“Give me three numbers, baby.” My mother made this request often—so often, in fact, that when I try to remember her voice this is what I hear. I can see her, too. She’s in the kitchen, sitting at the white Formica table, the green wall phone behind her, the phone she’ll soon pick up to place her bet. She’s smiling, because this moment is capacious: everything’s possible. It’s a moment in which—unless you’re a pessimist, and my mother is not—Fortune is on your side.

She’s dressed for the occasion, in a flower-print top and stretchy yellow slacks, as if to advertise her innocence before breaking the law. Of course, for a long time I didn’t know that what my mother was doing was illegal. She certainly didn’t look like a criminal, sitting there with her blond hair intricately coiffed. The stylist had made it look like a sfogliatella , a kind of Neapolitan pastry that we often had in the house. My mother’s hair possessed the same golden hue, the same artful construction of multilayered swoops. Plus, the glossy lacquer of Aqua Net was not unlike the sugar on the pastry. That this delectable human might want my advice made me feel giddy.

I don’t recall her ever asking my brother for numbers. My brother was older, more confident, more defined as a person. Perhaps, as such, he lacked mystery. So my mother looked to me, the quiet one.

Possibly my inwardness gave the impression I might be in contact with whatever invisible forces were responsible for luck. No doubt she’d also noted my fervent superstitions, which involved the need to arrange things perfectly or to perform an action a certain number of times. It was important, for instance, that the hanging bits of my shoelaces not touch the floor and that everything on my desk be an equal distance apart. When leaving for school, I made sure to touch three separate leaves on the maple tree just outside our door. These rituals, done correctly, could stave off doom—though perhaps my mother interpreted my behavior not as an attempt to avoid misfortune but as a spell to invoke success.

What would later be diagnosed as obsessive-compulsive disorder was, at this point, just another aspect of what was openly called my oddness. I had heard my father say to strangers that he had no idea where I’d come from. Sometimes he said he’d found me in a garbage can. I was also referred to as “the Polack,” since I was light-haired and fair-skinned, unlike my swarthy parents and my brother, who looked robustly Italian; the one-quarter Polish heritage from my paternal grandmother had staked its claim in me.

At least I had my mother’s nose, and, more important, I had inherited her belief in magic. Both of us understood that in order to survive it was necessary to arrange things in a certain way. You had to take life’s terrifying unpredictabilities and rally them, by ritual or formula, into an army that would do your bidding.

There was a period of several months when I kept suggesting my mother play the same three numbers. Seven, one, four. Something about that arrangement seemed friendly, not to mention that the numbers added up to twelve, which, when added again—one plus two—gave you three, meaning the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I saw no sacrilege in this reference to the Trinity. Gambling, I sensed, was a kind of prayer—though my mother didn’t always direct these prayers toward God. Sometimes she invoked the dead, playing the birth date of a deceased relative, often her grandmother. Such bets were akin to lighting candles in church, which you had to pay for, too. Both transactions were a request to be remembered by Heaven—to be helped, or saved.

And we needed help. We were poor—though this word was not one my family used back then. “Hardworking,” my mother might have said with a smirk, rightly indicating that the people who worked the hardest often had the least to show for it. “No pot to piss in,” as my father liked to put it. A waitress and a barber, they could get only so far.

Welfare, for which we likely would have qualified, was unthinkable. My parents, the descendants of immigrants who had never been naturalized, had inherited a residue of fear and shame when it came to the government. They didn’t want their names in the system or on a list .

Besides, we weren’t starving , and we’d recently moved to a house in the suburbs of New Jersey. The first time I suggested the numbers seven, one, four to my mother, she said, “Do you mean seven, one, two?” The address of the apartment building in Hoboken where we used to live was 712 Adams Street. “The penthouse,” my father called it—a tenth-floor walkup, with ill-lit stairwells reeking of urine. The tiny cold-water flat had no heating system other than the stove in the kitchen, which explains why in holiday photographs from that time my brother and I sit under an artificial Christmas tree as if dressed for an Arctic expedition.

Still, my mother occasionally played the old number—712. Her commitment to the past was baffling. Why look to that horrible apartment building for luck, especially now that we had a house of our own?

My mother’s parents had moved in with us, too, as had my father’s widowed mother, pale and skinny—the other Polack. At first, my grandmothers seemed less than happy. In Hoboken, they’d been able to walk everywhere. Now a car was required, and neither had ever learned to drive. In fact, neither had attended high school. They were quiet and humble women who, for many years, had worked as laborers—one in a laundry, the other as a housekeeper. But their real vocation appeared to be religion. My nonna and my babcia were so devout that they seemed like witches. When mumbling their prayers over rosary beads, their tongues turned thick and foreign. And, in their bedrooms, they kept a menagerie of plaster saints—figures that lived in a flickering garden of ever-blooming candles. To me, those tiny altars were the pilot lights of our house.

I loved my grandmothers with an intensity that was almost febrile; I flushed in their presence, greedy for attention, as well as in the knowledge that it would be given. They were the women who fed me, dressed me, put me to bed. To have both of them now under the same roof was the epitome of luck.

When I was feeling particularly anxious, I would sit beside my Polish grandmother; I’d take her hand and, using one of her fingers like a pen, trace circles on my palm. At a certain point, she would understand what I needed and begin to trace the circles herself. But eventually she’d toss my hand away and say, “Enough.”

Downstairs, in a separate apartment on the first floor, my Italian grandmother was always ready to receive me. Even if I wasn’t hungry, I’d claim that I was, and soon I’d be offered a piece of crusty bread with butter, or a bowl of steaming farina.

My mother had always taken a back seat in regard to child rearing, but now she had more freedom than ever and could focus more fully on her passions. In addition to playing her numbers, the so-called Italian lottery, she bet heavily on football. Watching the games on television, she would shout at the screen, gesticulating with her perfectly manicured hands. Shocking four-letter words emerged effortlessly through scarlet lips, in a voice deeper than my father’s.

Often, she watched with my uncles, and the shouting grew so loud that it terrified me. At the time, I didn’t understand how much money was riding on the outcome. I was aware only of the cheering that would lift my mother and the men from their seats or the swearing that would make my grandmothers retreat into the kitchen. I would escape, too, usually to the closet in my bedroom. It was around this time, when I was eight or nine, that I learned the comfort of tight spaces and the pleasure of rocking my body—both of which seemed to short-circuit the fear centers in my brain.

I also began to keep notebooks in which I wrote poems with tyrannical meters—another kind of rocking. I drew pictures, mostly animals, and kept lists, often mundane—the titles of all the movies I’d seen or the first names of the kids in my class. I might record an overheard conversation, one that had confused or upset me. Some days, all I could manage was to scribble endless spirals, or to write the word “win” over and over, doing my part to help my mother prosper.

My father wasn’t a gambler, though he had come from one. His father was a truck driver who’d once, in an all-night poker game, won enough to buy a vehicle and start his own short-haul delivery business. I was also told that he’d won a horse named Lollipop—a name he thought demeaning and quickly changed to Lady. My grandfather’s plan was to train her to race, illegally, on bush tracks. But Lady, kept at a cheap stable in Weehawken, died of colic. The following year, after another winning streak—this time on boxing matches—my grandfather died, too, of cirrhosis of the liver.

The cycle of the gambler—from despair and lack to hope and reward—was endless, both frustrating and beguiling. My father had experienced this long before he’d met my mother. He understood how her addiction could lead the family in one of two directions—either up the ladder or down.

Living in a new house seemed like a miracle to me; I didn’t understand how precarious our situation was, financially—the growing debts, the heavy burden of the mortgage. Nor did I understand the kinds of people my mother was involved with. My father has never been completely forthcoming about those years, but I do know that the down payment for the house was funded in part by gambling wins.

During those early days in the suburbs, my mother seemed as optimistic as ever. She’d managed to secure a number of credit cards, on which she could access cash advances. Perhaps it was these, along with the occasional windfall from the Italian lottery, that accounted for some of the over-the-top Christmases I experienced as a child—holidays in which my brother and I received a ridiculous amount of presents. There were Easters when, instead of dyed eggs, our egg hunts featured plastic eggshells stuffed with money. Certain years, the bills were singles, but other years there were fives and tens, even twenties.

In September, before school began, my mother would drive my brother and me to Schlesinger’s, a clothing store in West New York, where we were each allowed to pick out ten items. My mother was usually in a good mood and, for the most part, unconcerned with price or appropriate attire. She’d let my brother buy two pairs of sneakers or five football jerseys. But once, when I found a skintight shirt with a sparkly rose emblazoned across the chest, my mother seemed hesitant. “You’re skinny enough,” she said—focussing more on the fit than on the fact that I’d chosen something clearly meant for a disco queen. “It looks like diamonds,” I said. The comment was strategic. My mother had recently lost the stone in her engagement ring—or had she sold it? Anyway, I managed to sway her. “Just don’t wear it to school,” she said. I promised—a lie. When my brother scowled, I understood the reason. Kids in the neighborhood had started to call me “faggot.”

I knew the word, though in my mind then it meant something like “girl”—or, rather, a boy who was like a girl. And though the insult stung I could bear it by reminding myself that my favorite people were women, and these women had once been girls.

Every Friday, my parents went out to dinner. Sometimes they attended a concert or a Broadway show. Other activities my mother did alone. On a whim, she’d get dolled up and go to the track. Some weekends, she drove to a private club, where she liked the blackjack table. I remember my father, one day, accusing her of straying too far. After that, she did what she could to make her fun at home. Once or twice a month, she hosted late-night card parties. These parties were attended mostly by women, many of whom, like my mother, sported impressive confections of hair. Cigarettes dangled intrepidly from their lips—cigarettes they could inhale without the use of hands. All it took was a deft smirk, leaving their fingers free to focus on the cards.

The games were played around our kitchen table, after my brother and I had gone to bed. My father hovered at the periphery, watching TV in the living room until he fell asleep on the couch. Even from down the hall, I could smell the women’s perfume, my mother’s Opium coming through the strongest. As the night progressed, the scents grew wilder as they mingled with the women’s sweat. These gatherings, I later learned, were high-stakes affairs. Hundreds could be lost or gained.

The day after a card party, my mother would stay in bed later than usual. Before leaving for school, my brother and I would slip into her room to ask for money. She always allowed us to peel a few singles from the roll of bills she kept in her pocketbook. Sometimes that roll was skinny; other times it was as fat as a ball of mozzarella, and just as tempting. But, even as I could read my brother’s mind (“Why not take a little extra?”), my mother could read it, too. “Don’t even think about it,” she’d growl, her voice thick with slumber.

Not long after my eleventh birthday, the house began to hum with a new energy. The phone rang constantly. “Your mother’s friends,” my father called them. “Is Sophie there?” they’d ask, if I happened to pick up the phone.

By this point, she was not only playing her numbers but also taking bets for others. There was a pad beside the phone, on which she would write the caller’s name and a dollar amount, along with their hopeful chain of digits. Sometimes the word “box” or “straight” was included.

Since my mother was often out, she instructed my Polish grandmother to take down the information in her absence. When she asked what it was all about, my mother said she was doing someone a favor. Once, she said it was a game some girls were playing at work. No one questioned her, not even my father.

Now and then, the calls would come during dinner. My mother always sat closest to the wall where the phone was. Nearby, she had a tiny metal table on which she kept her pad. Mostly she’d finish these mealtime transactions quickly, but occasionally she’d get up, pulling the phone, which had an extra-long cord, all the way into the living room.

Whatever secrets she had seemed connected to our growing prosperity. During the summer, we were able to go to the shore for a week, stay at a hotel, eat three-course dinners in restaurants that looked like fishing boats. In the evenings, on the boardwalk, we’d play the wheels, shoot the guns, toss the balls. When the vacation was over, we drove home with the fruits of our good fortune—stuffed animals, cartons of cigarettes, goldfish in plastic bags. My brother and I put the fish in a water pitcher or a mixing bowl, hoping they wouldn’t die. Eventually, my father installed a pond in the yard, and the goldfish flashed around for years, reminding us of our luck.

That is, until the day my brother and I came home from school to find police cars parked in front of the house. My fear, always a trickster, convinced me that the police cars had something to do with me; I was not a normal person, and I knew that one day I’d be punished. My impulse was to get away, maybe hide in the woods near our house. But then my brother ran up the front steps and through the door, and I followed him.

Inside, all the lights were on—something my father never allowed. There were men everywhere, some in uniforms, some in suits. I rushed down to my nonna’s apartment, but neither she nor my grandfather was there. When I climbed the stairs again, a female neighbor was stationed in the kitchen, saying she’d take me and my brother to her place. I refused. “Where are my grandmothers?” I kept asking. Watching the men opening drawers and looking in closets, I felt a kind of nauseous outrage. When I saw the strangers in the hallway outside my bedroom, I thought of my notebooks. “You can’t go in there!” I screamed. My brother, in a moment of tenderness, touched my arm. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

For days after the raid, I worried that the police had read my notebooks—all that incriminating evidence. I felt certain they would return to fetch me.

Of course, the cops had no interest in the scribblings of an eleven-year-old boy. It turned out they had my Polish grandmother on tape, implicated in what I heard called a “numbers racket.” She was arrested, as was my mother. The two of them were booked, their photographs taken, their fingerprints. My grandmother was humiliated. I was told that she asked to remove the crucifix around her neck before they photographed her, but that this request was denied.

I prayed at her bedroom altar, kept her candles lit. My grandmother was released. The authorities believed her when she said she had no idea what she was doing. Besides, the police were after bigger fish—one of them being my big blond mother.

But she got off, too; I’m not sure how. “Friends in high places,” I recall my father saying, while my brother, using pulp-fiction logic, had the audacity to ask my mother if she’d turned other people in. I was sure she was going to slap him. But she fell into a stunned silence, and tears came to her eyes.

“I would never do that.”

Many years later, long after my mother died, I spoke with her brother, my uncle Frank, and asked him about the people my mother had worked for. My uncle tilted his head: “Let’s just say they weren’t people you wanted to screw with.” He mentioned some names and then immediately encouraged me to forget them. He was cagey and kept trying to change the subject.

But, in the end, he did tell me a little more about the nature of the business. “Your mother was a runner,” he said. “Like a salesman. She brought bets to the bookie, got a commission.”

“But what were the numbers?” I asked. “How did that work?”

My uncle explained that, every day, there’d be a notice in the newspaper which listed the previous day’s earnings at a New York racetrack, and that the game was to guess the last three numbers of that amount.

When I asked about the meaning of “box” and “straight,” he looked at me like I was an idiot.

“You could play the numbers in their exact order,” he said. “That’s straight. Or you could box them, which meant that if your numbers came out in any order you’d win something. It cost more, but you won less.”

I was curious if my mother had ever won big. My uncle shrugged. “What’s big? Sometimes it gave her a little extra. Your mother hated having no cash in her pocket. She said it made her feel naked.” He added that most of what she’d won had gone to the princes.

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I assumed my uncle was speaking about the men my mother had worked for. But when I asked, “Who were the princes?,” he said, “Don’t be stupid. You and your brother.”

For a while after my mother was arrested, she seemed to be a changed woman. At this point, she was working as a waitress in the skyboxes at Giants Stadium. She often pulled double shifts and came home exhausted. There were no more card parties. At night, she’d drink coffee and watch police procedurals on television. She slept very little. Sometimes she played electronic poker on a small device whose chirps and dings I could hear in my bedroom. In the mornings, I’d find her sitting at the kitchen table, paying our bills or figuring out the household budget.

Strangely, even with my mother’s propensity for gambling, my father had always let her take care of the finances; he claimed that she was better with numbers.

Now and then, my Italian grandmother would climb the stairs to check on her daughter. “ Tutto bene ?” she’d ask unsteadily, clearly out of breath. She’d started to speak more often in her native tongue. Curses? Prayers? Accusations? I comprehended none of it.

My other grandmother resumed her housekeeping duties with a demented vigor, as if the scrubbing and polishing could remove the stain of her sins. She rarely spoke to my mother, the tension between them palpable. The silence was toxic; I could feel it in my chest, like smog.

My mother was too proud, or perhaps too ashamed, to apologize; and my grandmother, I assume, was too aware that she lived in our house by the grace of my parents’ kindness.

After the arrest, my babcia was easily overcome by emotion. Sometimes the cause of a breakdown seemed trivial. Once, I heard my father ask her what was going on with the towels—why were they so rough, shouldn’t she be using fabric softener? My grandmother made a strange gulping sound and walked out of the kitchen. I found her downstairs, crying as she stood beside the washing machine. “He treats me like a servant,” she said. “Your mother, too.”

A moment after her outburst, she wiped her eyes and began to defend my father: “I know he works hard. I know he didn’t mean it.” She was petting my face now, in an effort to distract me from her brush with honesty.

I understood then that there was a warning here. It seemed that if you didn’t express yourself you ended up a prisoner. And, though you might blame others for this, in truth the jailer was yourself. I was a prisoner, too. There were many things I couldn’t bear to say; instead, I buried them in notebooks. I was a coward, and my silence, like my grandmother’s, had a lot to do with shame.

No one in the house was speaking honestly. We went about our days, as before, but all of us were just pretending things were fine. Every time the phone rang, I could see the worry on my father’s face.

But, as the months passed and nothing happened, life resumed its ease. My parents had even befriended a priest. My mother, who never cooked, once spent a whole afternoon making cream puffs before he came to visit. I watched, disgusted, as he ate five, then six, then seven. I counted, of course, and later wrote the number in my notebook.

The priest wasn’t from our church; I’m not sure where my parents met him—maybe at a party. In addition to having a sweet tooth, he drank a lot of wine, and his smile was often counterfeit; I could tell by the way his eyes failed to participate.

My grandmothers, however, seemed charmed by him. When my babcia asked him to bless the house, he happily obliged, using a tiny vial of holy water. I recall feeling upstaged; apparently my own rituals were no longer sufficient to insure our safety.

Sometimes I wondered why I was working so hard. The worst had happened and my family had survived. Perhaps I could learn to resist the tyranny of my compulsions. Slowly, I let down my guard. When I tapped the maple leaves now, it was out of habit rather than as an obsessive act of magic. My grandmothers became less vigilant, too. Every so often, I would notice that, in one of their bedrooms, no candle was burning. Even today, I blame this laxness for what was yet to happen.

About two years later, I was sitting at the dinner table with my family when suddenly my brother began to cry. The moment was disorienting because my brother rarely shed a tear.

My father seemed more annoyed than sympathetic. “What?” he said.

Finally, my brother looked up. “Are you selling the house?” he asked.

My father was scowling now. “What are you talking about?”

When my brother spoke again, his words came out in jagged, breathless shards—something about a kid at school, something the kid’s mother had read in the newspaper.

Apparently, there was a notice in the paper that our house was up for sale. “Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother said. My father added, “Your friend is full of shit.”

My father didn’t rush through dinner, which calmed us. But, afterward, he got up and went into the living room, sat in his easy chair, and unfolded the local paper, where he learned that what my brother had said was true. Our house was to be auctioned off at the end of the month—not by my father but by the county sheriff.

I’m not sure what happened next; there’s a gap in my memory. Certainly, there must have been an argument, accusations, apologies. I have a vague recollection of my mother saying something about “a mistake.” My memory wakes up a few days later. My parents are whispering in the kitchen. And then the whispering turns to shouting. My mother, defending herself, sounds like an unrepentant child: “It’s not my fault!”

I later came to understand that for nearly a year my mother had failed to make the mortgage payments. She’d also secured a line of credit against the equity, and it seemed that my father’s signature on this loan was forged.

The money, most likely, had gone toward more of my mother’s prayers—numbers and horses and blackjack. “I was almost there,” she said once, her martyred eyes looking toward the ceiling. If there was sadness, it didn’t appear to be about what she’d done; it seemed to be about the fact that her magic had failed her.

My father had a new voice now, hammering, unkind; he had no patience for any of us. I was often afraid to talk to him. My father says he doesn’t recall this part of our life; other times he actively denies his aggressive behavior. My brother denies it, too. But I clearly remember the way my father would suddenly turn violent. “Get on my bed!” he’d scream, marching us toward his room. I’d hear the jangle of buckles as he opened the door to his armoire, inside of which his belts hung. I knew my father was taking things out on us that he’d never take out on my mother. Although he yelled at her, he never struck her. Some days, I feared that if my father did not whip my brother and me he might end up killing our mother.

Discipline became the doctrine of the house. There were new rules, new lines my brother and I had to be careful not to cross. When my father saw me in a ripped T-shirt I’d let dangle off one shoulder, he said I looked like a pansy. I tried to defend myself, saying the shirt had come that way and the rips were part of the style.

“Are they?” my father said. He walked toward me, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and proceeded to rip it further. In my memory, this assault feels more terrible than the whippings. I am flayed, ridiculed, reduced.

Everything about my presence seemed to irritate him. Noise was a particular issue—the volume of the television, the way I closed a cabinet, the clamor of my laughter. Of course, my father’s voice wasn’t subject to such rules. During one particularly loud argument between my parents, my grandfather lumbered up the stairs—I assumed to defend his daughter. But, instead, he joined my father and began to shout at her: “What are we supposed to do, girl? Live on the fucking street?” As he turned to go back downstairs, his grumbled invectives descended, too, into his dark Neapolitan dialect.

Later that night, I heard my father crying. The sound jerked out of him in strange squeaks, as if someone were wiping a mirror. My grandmothers, in their rooms, were crying, too.

Despite the chaos of those weeks, my father came up with a plan. He talked to relatives, friends, colleagues, and, though it must have pained him to do so, he asked each of them for a loan, any amount they could spare. Some folks could offer only a few hundred bucks, but others gave more. My mother said she could borrow a little money, too, but my father, suspicious of her sources, said no.

My mother was no longer herself. A few days after we learned about the loss of the house, she cut her hair. She now had a short, dense bristle, almost mannish. She looked like a thug, or a Buddhist nun. It was hard to understand if her new style was an act of aggression or of renunciation. While my father made frantic telephone calls, my mother was often pacing in the back yard, smoking cigarettes.

Sometimes, through a window, I’d watch her; if she spotted me, she’d offer a little wave, shake her head. I always thought she was saying, “Leave me alone, go away.” But now I think perhaps she was trying to tell me something else, the same thing she kept saying to me when she lay dying: “I’m sorry, baby.”

My father kept track of his loans in a ledger, which he stored in the bottom drawer of his armoire. Before the auction was held, he managed to borrow enough to save the house—though what should have been a triumph felt more like a funeral. My father was pale, his features frozen.

As the years passed, he’d pay off what he could. At the end of every week, he’d place his hard-earned cash in envelopes, many of which he’d hand-deliver, in increments of ten or twenty dollars. All accounting went into the ledger. My father’s penmanship was like a child’s; he wrote in print, having never learned cursive. When I finally left for college, he was no longer the slim, fit man he’d been in his youth. His hair had thinned, then grayed. I didn’t recognize him.

It was the same with my mother. She was a mystery to me, her undeniable generosity chafing against the fact that she was willing to risk everything our family had.

Ultimately, my father made good on all his debts. When I asked him once how long it took, he said, “Years! I wanted to strangle your mother. But I always knew what I was getting into. Your mother was trouble from the start.” Even as he said this, though, I could see the smile held in check.

By the time my father had paid everyone back, he and my mother appeared to have made peace with each other. I’d moved to Arizona, but when I came to visit for the holidays I’d notice my parents laughing together, and sometimes I’d see them kiss. My father didn’t even seem to mind when my mother said she wanted to take a trip to Las Vegas with some of her cousins.

I flew out from Tucson to meet her. I wasn’t a gambler, but, still, I enjoyed watching her at the blackjack table, with her short blond perm, a Scotch-and-soda sweating in her hand. Whenever she won—not often—her shout was loud, and always directed upward, as if to the invisible ones who’d facilitated her good fortune.

My mother seemed happy again—but soon after turning sixty she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Once the treatments began, she had very little energy. There were no more visits to Las Vegas. My father told her to quit her waitressing job, but she said, “How can I?” The medical bills were piling up.

By then, I was determined to make my living as a writer—and though most of my family, especially my father, didn’t seem to understand my ambitions, I could tell my mother did. Now that she was no longer gambling, she began to put all her chips on me. When I won my first literary award, she threw a party that clearly cost more than the amount of the small cash prize I’d received.

“Risk everything” had always been her motto. And she seemed to understand that this was exactly what I was doing in choosing to become an artist.

Late into her illness, I began writing my first novel. After she learned I was dedicating it to her, she always referred to it as “our book.” “What’s going on with our book?” she’d say. “How much are they giving us?”

“It hasn’t sold yet,” I had to keep telling her.

“It will, baby.” I could feel her shaking the dice in her hands.

The book sold a month after she died, on her birthday. I didn’t get a fortune, but it was more money than I’d ever made in my life, and surely more than my mother had ever won at any of her games. It was hard not to feel superstitious—that my luck was somehow related to her.

Lately, I can see my mother clearly. I can see her sitting at the kitchen table with her shining tower of hair, playing cards or placing bets. Despite all the darkness and loss that was to come, I can glimpse the romance behind her schemes. And so I often think of my own work as a bet I’m placing for her.

Let’s do it , Mom. Let’s win . ♦

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Tim Walz Is Vibing

Democrats are trying to make the election about who is cool and who is weird. will it stick.

This transcript was created using speech recognition software. While it has been reviewed by human transcribers, it may contain errors. Please review the episode audio before quoting from this transcript and email [email protected] with any questions.

I’ve never really listened to Bon Iver. Only the duet with Taylor Swift that I’ve listened to 1,247 times.

Oh, the girl dad.

It’s a good song.

It’s funny. My daughter, who’s 9, was asking if she could come to the DNC with me in case Taylor Swift.

In case Tay-Tay shows up.

Oh, my god. That’s — if only she could vote. Or we reconsider the JD Vance proposal. Give her the vote.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

From “New York Times” Opinion, I’m Michelle Cottle.

And I’m Ross Douthat.

And this is “Matter of Opinion.”

Well, it is vacation season around these parts. I myself just got back from some glorious together time with my family. It was our first serious trip since before the pandemic. And we spent it several time zones away from the political insanity of the past couple of weeks, which I was kind of sad to miss, but also not at all.

But now, with our co-hosts away this week, Ross, I am thrilled we are being joined by our brilliant colleague, opinion columnist Michelle Goldberg. Michelle was out on the trail with Harris just last week and wrote a fantastic piece about the Kamala — Kamala —

Kamala-nomenon.

The Kamala-nomenon.

Well, it’s a Chappell Roan reference.

No, no doubt. I’m hopelessly out of touch. But regardless, Michelle, welcome. We are so very happy that you are here.

We are, indeed, Michelle.

Oh, thanks so much for having me.

Yeah, I actually think it helps Ross’s baby addled brain when he only has to remember one name.

That’s right. Only one name. I can’t remember. I only have two male children, and I am already calling them by each other’s name consistently. So this is actually the perfect setting.

I once went out on a date with a Frenchman named Michelle.

OK, next time, we’ll bring him in. All right, on to the big news of the week, which is Veep picks a Veep. Vice President Kamala Harris picked Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her running mate. So, guys, how did we get here? Ross.

Yeah, I mean, I predicted that she would pick Josh Shapiro, Governor of Pennsylvania, for sort of a mixture of the boring ideological reasons and the boring electoral college map reasons. He seemed like the potential VP pick with a kind of proven track record of generating high approval ratings in a purple state with a lot of conservative voters. And also Pennsylvania is a must win state probably for the Democrats.

To the extent that we can say that vice presidential picks do anything, it seems most likely that it makes some marginal difference in their home states if they’re popular. I think now that the pick has been made and we’ve sort of watched the ticket on the stump and watched the way it’s been responded to on social media, I think the pick makes a lot of sense for what the Harris campaign has been doing really successfully for the last few weeks, which is basically try to counteract Donald Trump’s advantage with just a really strong — I’m sorry to use the term — it’s overused — but a really strong vibes-based campaign, right?

Where the idea is you want the guy who sort of made himself a star and a contender to be VP by going on TV and calling JD Vance and Donald Trump weird and blowing up progressive Twitter and getting people really excited and being a guy who seems to know his way around a cable news hit and who’s good in front of a crowd. And that’s sort of a different kind of bet than a kind of ideological electoral college map calculation.

But it’s a bet that so far has carried the Harris campaign into a lead in some national polls. The crowds are big. The energy is great. And maybe the way to beat Donald Trump is to have a politician who can go out and stand in front of a cheering rally and make a joke about how his opponent has sex with a couch.

Maybe that’s what the Democrats have been missing all this time. I’m not being insincere, right? That could be it. The pick is of a piece with what we’ve sort of seen from both the Harris campaign and the kind of media, pop culture sort of ferment around the Harris campaign since Biden dropped out of the race.

I mean, I’m a huge Walz fan, and I was worried. I listen a lot to Sarah Longwell, who now runs Republican voters against Trump and does a ton of focus groups, and so I think is in touch with a side of the electorate that a lot of other people miss. She was very, very bullish on Shapiro because Shapiro really appealed to the kind of people that she’s talking to, which are kind of either Never Trump or soft Trump supporters.

At the same time, I do think that Shapiro could have been like an Acela Corridor idea of what a moderate is. You would have had sort of two fairly slick, super educated lawyers on the ticket. And I’m not sure how much that would have read as ideological balance to parts of the country.

At the same time, I do worry a little bit that Democrats are leaning too much on style with Walz. I’ve heard people say that Walz is a liberal’s idea of what a red state voter likes. It’s difficult for me to judge from Brooklyn, New York. And I talked to at least one Democratic operative in Wisconsin who was kind of over the moon about Walz in terms of his ability to reach the voters that they need to turn out in Wisconsin.

But I do think that on the one hand, yes, there is something very relatable about Walz, and hopefully, he can help them lose by less in rural parts of the country, which is what Democrats need to do. I also think that there is a danger of leaning so much on his persona that it veers into shtick.

And so I don’t really — I actually don’t want to hear the couch joke again. I think that they should leave the couch joke to the internet, let the internet do its thing, and sort of maybe even scale back the weird stuff. Let that kind of linger in the background. It makes me a little bit nervous if the Harris campaign is taking too many cues from the internet.

Let’s just pause because listeners may not understand the couch comments. The couch comments are that someone on the internet made up an excerpt from “Hillbilly Elegy,” in which in the made-up excerpt, Vance had —

Got jiggy with a sofa.

Exactly, and this has become maybe one of the dominant progressive memes about his candidacy.

So I’m a huge fan of vibe politics. I do think there’s a lot to be said about them. What I think fascinates me is it seems like there is an interesting experiment going on here, where the progressive politics of the guy who the Republicans, obviously, are going to pile on with this — he’s too liberal San Francisco style. Just don’t mesh with the persona. It’s just like the man snuggles piglets, wears camo, goes to the state fair, and wears ratty T-shirts, and has a better hunting record than anybody on the Republican side.

And I am fascinated to see how this pans out. Because pointy-headed folks like us spend a lot of time parsing policy, parsing political background, details along those lines, that’s never been what voters seem to be most interested in. They have an interest in relatability, what these guys seem to telegraph, whether or not they seem “authentic”— I hate that term, but that is how this rolls for me.

This is a little bit like what happened with the John Fetterman Senate election in Pennsylvania, where you had a guy who was more liberal than some of his competitors, but came across as kind of like a red state biker, and people really dug that. So this is a different kind of Middle America dorky dad vibe that we’ve got going on here. And I think it will help deflect some of the just basic Republican pile-on too liberal message.

So, yeah, I mean, I’m having made the case that this pick makes sense in vibes terms. I, too, am historically a skeptic of what Michelle Cottle just elaborated, right? The idea that voters just are basing their picks on relatability and who they want to have a beer with or go hunting with.

Adjust, but heavily.

Right. But if you look at the Democratic politicians who have tended to do well in rural America, whether it’s someone like Jared Golden, the congressman in Maine, or every liberal’s favorite senator, Joe Manchin, or even like someone like Mary Peltola in Alaska, they usually both have a sort of rural, friendly persona and a bunch of pretty heterodox positions that put them to the right of the mainstream Democratic Party.

And with Walz, what you see is when he represented a rural area, he was a bit more like that. And then when he became governor, I don’t think you would say like he’s a doctrinaire progressive, but he became governor in a progressive leaning state with a narrow liberal majority that passed a lot of quite liberal legislation. And he happily and eagerly signed it all.

And at that point, if you then look at his numbers in the last gubernatorial race, he won the state pretty easily, but he certainly didn’t overperform in rural areas. He had a pretty conventional sort of urban to suburban liberal coalition. So I think we’re pretty short right now on evidence that just nominating the guy who seems country is the ticket to overperformance. But I’m also open to the possibility that I’m mistaken, right?

Yeah, I don’t think that he necessarily overperforms among conservative voters strictly defined. But there’s another kind of voter — and again, these are all small groups of people in kind of how campaign strategists slice and dice the electorate. I don’t know, but there was such a thing as a Bernie to Trump voter. And he seems to me to be sort of very well-positioned to appeal to that kind of voter, the person who finds traditional politicians alienating.

Well, I grew up, as you know, in red state America. And I’ve got friends from high school who are like, why can’t Democrats just sound like normal people, for God’s sake? Why do they always sound like they’ve just come from a kind of film studies lecture at Dartmouth? So if you’re looking at a very blue state top of the ticket, you’ve got a biracial woman who’s, like, California all the way. If you want to talk about balancing style, then he does serve a certain purpose.

It was interesting that people who thought that Josh Shapiro would balance Harris. I was a little bit worried that the kind of voters you’re talking about, that kind of culturally feel very alienated from Harris would be reassured by an overachieving Jewish —

— law school graduate. I mean, again, I think that there’s a certain kind of voter who feels reassured on policy. But there are also, if you’re sort of alienated from the Democratic Party because it seems increasingly like the party of the highly educated and affluent, then Josh Shapiro doesn’t do much for you.

Right, although he has really strong approval ratings in Pennsylvania, which include presumably voters who voted for Trump last time. You don’t get to 60 percent approval if you’re just being approved of by Biden voters. And I think we should say something briefly about the issues around Israel and Palestine and the Democrats’ complicated dance, right?

Because there is clearly some calculation here about the risks of losing, on the one hand, sort of both younger left wing voters and Arab-American voters, as opposed to the risks of losing some Jewish voters, right? And no Democrat would come out and say it, but certainly, there are Democrats who are thinking that Shapiro wasn’t picked, not even because of his specific positioning, but because as someone who has that positioning and is Jewish, he would be sort of doubly alienating.

No, it’s not as some — no, no, no, no, no, no, no. It is not as someone who has that positioning and is Jewish. It is someone who has leaned into that positioning in a way that no other candidate has, right? No Democrat is going to wring their hands if the pick was JB Pritzker, right? It is not because he’s Jewish.

I mean, “The New York Times” did a big story about at a time when Democrats are torn over Israel and Palestine, here’s Shapiro leaning really hard into criticism of the protesters, right? And we can parse what he meant when he made the KKK comparison to some of the tent encampments.

And frankly, as somebody who is to the left of the kind of mainstream Democratic position on Israel and would like to see an administration get much tougher on Israel, I thought that Shapiro would be extremely useful there as sort of a shield if Kamala Harris — President Kamala Harris, God willing — wanted to crack down on a Netanyahu administration, if Netanyahu was still in power.

I think it was a mistake for people in the left to assume that the choice of Shapiro would have signaled a kind of much different approach in a potential Harris administration to Israel. But on the other hand, I think that to say that the opposition to him was based on the fact that he was Jewish is just a slur.

But this discussion right here is what the Democrats didn’t want to have.

Right, didn’t want to have. And it’s what I didn’t want to have. I mean, it’s what —

So, taking a step back, I don’t think we want to look at this as though Walz was picked because he wasn’t problematic in this way. Everybody’s problematic in some ways. So talk to me about kind of hat does Walz proactively bring to the table, if anything, in policy terms or if we’re just talking about vibes? So what do you see as his value added here? And Michelle, lead us off here.

Well, I mean, in governing terms, it’s that he did, in Minnesota, a lot of the things that Kamala Harris wants to do nationally, right? I mean, Kamala Harris, she still hasn’t fleshed out, I think, a really robust set of policy positions. But inasmuch as she is —

In the two weeks she — damn her.

That’s a very kind way of putting it.

Right. But in as much as we see her message evolving on the stump, she’s very focused on cost of living, middle class economics. And if you look at a lot of the things that Walz has done in Minnesota, things like free college for people who make under $80,000 a year, free school lunches, paid family leave, even things that he’s done that are a little bit more heterodox, but don’t get talked about that way, like permitting reform and building more housing to drive down the cost of housing, those are the things that she wants to do on a national scale.

No, I mean, he did a lot of progressive things, and some progressive things are favorable to the middle class. And those things are things that the Harris campaign wants to talk about to the extent that it wants to talk about policy at all. I mean, I think we clearly are going to be talking about some potentially unpopular things that he supports as a progressive. And we’re going to be talking about the debate that’s already bubbled up about the public comments he’s given that seem to imply that he had seen service in a war zone.

Oh, no, come on, Ross. That is like — I’m sorry, but we’re seeing this attempt to swiftboat him. And it’s worth noting that Donald Trump’s campaign manager was the architect of the swiftboating of John Kerry. But it just seems to me that it is in such wildly bad faith. I mean, the quotes that they’re finding, he says basically — he’s talking about weapons that shouldn’t be available for purchase by people who, say, want to shoot up their schools. And he says something like, these are weapons of war, weapons I carried in war. And that was —

Did he carry them in war?

Well, he carried them while deployed as an artillery man in Operation Enduring Freedom, but not in a war zone.

In what country?

Right, in Italy. He has never claimed to be —

Should he have said that?

Taking one step back, the difference here is John Kerry was picked and ran on his whole reporting for duty, “I’ll be a tough commander in chief.” One, we’re not talking about the top of the ticket, because if you want to talk about of the ticket, then Captain Bone Spurs is going to have to be dealt with as well on the Republican side. And two, he is not running as a military vet primarily. He’s running as a former high school teacher, and even more importantly, state champion winning football coach. So I’m just saying. There are differences.

Ross, can I ask you a question? I think that a lot of people thought that his biggest vulnerability was going to be the riots after George Floyd’s murder. Having heard the recording in which Donald Trump talks about how wonderfully he handled those riots and how much strength he showed, do you think that there is some deflation among conservatives?

I don’t know if there’s — I haven’t been on the phone with conservative strategists, so I couldn’t tell you if there’s specific deflation. I think that that helps him, obviously. The thing that immediately struck me about the pick was that you were picking a figure who was associated with what you might call peak 2020, right, which, from my perspective, looking back, was the period of maximal liberal craziness in my own life.

And here was the guy who was literally governor of Minnesota when the George Floyd protests started. But certainly, it helps him in that debate and discussion since he was criticized for how he handled the riots. To have Donald Trump praising him, I don’t think there’s any question about that.

Oh, yeah, I think he dodged a big issue here because they were gearing up to make that fit into the broader narrative of Democrats as soft on crime.

I don’t think that narrative goes away. And the story of public safety in Minneapolis thereafter for a while was not really a pretty story. So I certainly think there are still legitimate criticisms of his record on those issues. But does it help him to have that tape? Yes, absolutely.

Oh, sure. We’re talking about degrees with all of this. No attack is going away. That’s not how that works. But it does keep it from being so central. OK, so with that, we’re going to take a quick break. And when we come back, we’re going to talk about how Harris-Walz ticket stacks up against the dynamic duo on the other side of the ballot. So stay right there.

All right, so we’ve officially got both sides of the ballot filled in now. It’s Trump-Vance versus Harris-Walz. We kind of know the basic shape of things. So if you’re looking at these pairings, give us, I mean, maybe just a bumper sticker sense of what their priorities are and kind of where they stand.

I think that the top line vibes-based take is that this is joy and the future versus anger in the past.

I would say that the Democratic ticket wants it to be coolness versus weirdness. And the Republican message when it was Joe Biden was strength and economic success versus inflation, old age, and weakness. And I don’t think the Vance pick was made particularly with those narratives in mind. I think the assumption was those narratives were sort of set already, and the VP pick wasn’t that important to it.

I don’t think the Trump-Vance campaign has sort of settled on their ideal frame. They’re sort of moving back and forth between casting Harris and now Walz as sort of chameleons versus just casting them as far-left and progressive. I do think there’s certainly a big risk for the Republicans that they’re just sort of defined as doom and darkness, which sometimes plays — I mean, plays better in American politics today maybe than it used to. I don’t think you can just say, oh, the campaign of things are bad is going to lose, but that is where they are.

I mean, I think that you’re right, and I wrote about this in 2016 that I was very worried about the Hillary Clinton message of America is already great because even then, I think the vibes were kind of dark and Donald Trump was tapping into that. But don’t you think people are just exhausted? I mean, it’s been eight years of American carnage. You don’t think that there’s a part of the country that just finds joy like a really refreshing change?

Well, I think the pitch that Trump had going for him in this election and the reason that he was ahead in the polls was not the American carnage pitch. It was basically the pitch that America was better off and the world was more stable and safer in 2019 than it is in 2023 and 2024, right?

So when Harris now has her line, we’re not going to go back, right, which is casting Trump as reactionary and herself as forward-looking, I think it’s been a strength of the Trump campaign to date that some people want to go back, not to 1957 or something, but to the low inflation economy of 2019 and a world where we hadn’t had the disastrous pullout from Afghanistan, the invasion of Ukraine, and crises in the Middle East.

So I think what Harris is trying to do is to basically make Trump into the reactionary choice. And what Trump had done to date was make himself into a candidate of nostalgia for the very, very recent past. So to the extent that the Trump-Vance campaign gets stuck back in American carnage — everything is just terrible all the time — I think that’s a bad place for them to be.

I think they need the vibe of, “Trump did a good job last time. He’ll do a good job again. America can be great. Things aren’t that bad. You just have to put Trump back in power.” That’s what they need.

So I do find it fascinating to see what they’re going to do. Obviously, they’re scrambling because they had spent years building a kind of framework to go up against a guy who was older than they were and who seemed weaker than their guy. And then, suddenly, all of that has been upended. And what we have now is Trump is old. He has slipped. He is not sharp. He is once again dark.

And there’s really no kind of other way to look at it than he and Vance are the reactionary choice. I think if he had known what was happening, there is no way he would have picked Vance. He would have picked somebody who wasn’t giving the middle finger to everybody, but his kind of MAGA populist base. And they don’t really have much else to offer as a message. Now, that does not mean that he won’t win. It just means that they are having to scramble to find their footing because they don’t know how to fight against a different ticket.

And it’s been interesting over the last week. I mean, this might radically change by the time people are listening to this.

But over the last week, it’s almost seemed like a Vance-Harris race because Vance is the one out there on the trail following Harris around to all these swing states. Trump has done one rally in the last week. And so, Vance, at the moment, is really the public face of the campaign.

We should say, we’re recording this Thursday morning. Trump has announced he’s giving a press conference at 2:00 PM this afternoon, right? I mean, Trump is not going to disappear, obviously.

No, but generally speaking, if he’s not going to be out there as the front man for this campaign, then you’re left with JD Vance, who, again — let’s speak to this — has come across a little weird this race. And as you know, Ross, I am not a JD hater. I’ve sat down with him. I think he’s more earnest and certainly whip smart and kind of thoughtful.

But he has not covered himself in glory on the trail so far, whether you’re talking about how he has responded to these old quotes where he seems to be completely dissing childless folks or even making snarky remarks about people who did not biologically bear their children, which I think is one of the stupidest moves on the planet.

But also, when he does weird things, like the other day, he tried to storm Air Force 2 because it was on the tarmac and he wanted to confront the vice president. And so he had this whole pack of guys headed toward the vice president’s plane, and she’s not there. It’s just like he needs to kind of regroup. For somebody who hasn’t done this a lot, he needs a little bit more — I don’t direction — than he seems to be getting. It just makes him look weird.

I mean, I don’t actually really agree that he’s — I think if you just took his convention speech and campaign persona and separated it from the podcast clips and Tucker Carlson clips that —

But you can’t do that.

— have been —

You just can’t.

Right. But no, I’m just saying, I don’t think he’s been weird, capital W or not.

Oh, I thought it was weird. I mean, it was weird when someone threw such a softball question of what makes you happy. And I can’t remember what the answer was, but it was something like not having to answer dumb questions from journalists or something like that.

I don’t think it is capital W weird to go — whether that was a smart answer or not, to go after the press. I think, look, there isn’t some sort of magical campaign strategy he can take right now that deals with the fact that he spent several years being a right-wing podcast and cable news guest guy.

And that is the problem, right, that he has a trail of comments that you wouldn’t make if you were a cautious, normal politician ascending the ladder. It’s the kind of comments that you make if you’re going on — I mean, the list of podcasts that he went on in that phase is a list that I am familiar with as someone who’s familiar with conservatism, right? But it’s just not the normal circuit.

But JD Vance, A, gives us a chance to marvel at how far we’ve fallen all over again. And also, he doesn’t have the dark, psychotic charisma that Donald Trump has. I mean, we talked earlier about Kamala Harris and Tim Walz as chameleons.

Right, JD Vance is someone — JD Vance has only been JD Vance for 10 years, right? He’s changed his name a bunch of times. Some of that was because of his unstable childhood. Some of that, though, was because of his shifting identity as an adult. He’s had wildly changing political orientations. He’s had wildly changing personas as an adult.

And I almost feel bad for him because there’s almost a sense in which he’s being kind of bullied on the national stage in which he gives off this deep insecurity that people are latching onto. I mean, it’s why these couch comments — which, again, I think that people should leave them to the internet, and the Democratic elected should stay away from them.

It’s embarrassing, especially since there are plenty of legitimate grounds to attack JD Vance, right?

No, I mean, think it’s embarrassing, again, for elected Democrats. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think most people know that this is not true. It isn’t true.

I mean, I’m just going to cite the distinguished Atlantic journalist McKay Coppins, who wrote a tweet the other day about how he has a bunch of what he described as intelligent, normal friends who are totally convinced that this story is true. So I think no. I think, clearly, lots of people on the left have actually memed themselves into believing that this is a true story.

OK, that’s unfortunate. It’s not.

I think what we have learned from politics in the last few years is that a certain segment of people will believe whatever they want, but does any of it matter fundamentally? At the end of the day, we are talking about VP picks. Ultimately, it’s Kamala versus Trump.

Isn’t the consensus that sort of VP picks can not particularly help, but that they can harm? I mean, I don’t know what the political science says about Sarah Palin’s effect on the John McCain campaign, but people connected with that campaign certainly believe that she was — maybe they’re just scapegoating her.

A bunch of political geniuses who ran that campaign, let me tell you.

Well, yeah, because they picked her. But there’s a widespread belief that she was part of his defeat.

And people have talked about that Mike Pence helped Trump reassure the Christian conservatives. Dick Cheney was there to shore up George W. Bush’s kind of gravitas. So people talk about these things, as you are alluding to. The research suggests that they don’t make much of a difference, except maybe on the margins. But on the margins is where we’re playing this election.

Well, and I think as we’ve been saying, it matters that Trump himself has somewhat disappeared. And if he’s not out there, then his VP can’t but play a sort of outsized role. Now, I also think — I don’t feel sorry for JD Vance.

Well, of course not.

He might be vice president of the United States, and he’s going to get to debate Walz on a national stage. And that will matter a great deal to how he’s perceived. But overall, I do agree that we don’t know yet enough about how Walz will play. I do agree that if you were rerunning the tape and Trump was trailing by 3 points to Kamala Harris, I think he would be less likely to have picked Vance. I think that is definitely the case.

But let me just say one more thing, which is that we have these polls now, right? We have a week’s worth of polls showing Harris ahead. And part of what you see in those polls is just incredible levels of enthusiasm from Democrats. The evidence is more ambiguous. Some polls show her gaining with independents. Some don’t, right?

So I think what we can say about the Harris-Walsz ticket so far is that it is a Democrat maximizer. This is like maximum Democratic Party right now. And what remains to be seen is whether that just continues, but also whether that is the better strategy than the kind of like cobble together a coalition with more independents. But maximum Democratic Party is where this ticket is at right now with this pick.

All right, Ross, I’m going to have to give you the last word on this, as much as that pains me.

As I intended by going on too long.

Oh, my god. Well, we’ve got, what, 12 more weeks. I mean, at this rate, we could still have an alien invasion October surprise.

Don’t you feel like if we had an alien invasion, it would be on like page 4?

Right. It wouldn’t even rank at this point.

And haven’t we already had an alien invasion, and it was on page 4?

Ross, Ross, that is enough excitement for today. We’re going to take a quick break. And when we come back, we’re going to get hot or cold.

All righty, Michelle. It is time for that magical moment when one of us rants about something we’re hot or cold on, and we love to offer this tiny hill to die on to our guests. So, do you got anything you’re feeling hot or cold about?

So I am going to say I’m feeling hot on this show called “Sunny.” Have either of you guys heard of it?

I feel like no one’s heard of it. I see no discussion of it, no discourse. I mean, I stumbled on it kind of randomly. But it’s the only thing that I’m really into on television right now.

Synopsis, please.

So it’s a kind of slightly comedic mystery starring Rashida Jones, Rashida Jones from —

“Parks and Rec.”

From “Parks and Rec” and from “The Office.” And she is an expat living in a slightly futuristic Kyoto, whose husband and son either die or go missing — it’s not entirely clear — in a plane crash. And her husband, who worked in robotics, leaves her this kind of home helper robot that he has clearly programmed in some unusual way, the significance of which is mysterious. And she gets mixed up with the Yakuza, and there’s some kind of —

— code that people are searching for that can make these robots, which are kind of ubiquitous, do things that, ordinarily, robots should not be permitted to do. And in some ways, it reminds me of “Severance.” It has this slightly surreal, deadpan quality to it. It’s short. I think most episodes are roughly a half hour. And it’s the only thing that’s on TV right now that I’m really like, oh, is there a new episode out yet?

OK, OK. This goes on my summer watch list. I’ve run out of things. I’m waiting for the new season of “Shrinking” to come back in a couple of months. But until then, this is it. I’m going there.

Yeah, we need Japanese content at the moment, I think, both because —

I was not expecting that, Ross.

Well, both because the weakness of the yen against the dollar explains why basically everyone I know has been going to Japan.

Oh, yeah, that’s true.

I feel like I’ve known — including my mother-in-law, who is embarking on a trip to Japan this spring, and all of this is making my eight-year-old son, who is sort of obsessed with samurai, really angry because he wants to go to Japan. And I’ve tried to explain to him that we can’t take five kids, including a newborn, on a trans-Pacific flight.

That’s funny. My son also badly wants to go to Japan. And we’re going to hopefully do it for his 13 birthday.

That’s so funny. My 19-year-old is obsessed with anime, like complete anime nut, and wants to go to Japan.

I mean, my son studies Japanese on Duolingo.

How old is your son now?

11. Well, maybe he can take my son, who is 8 and will be 10, to Japan. It’s a very safe country, so they could just go together.

But it doesn’t seem very safe in this show.

Well, Yakuza, shmakuza — that’s what I always say.

All right. Fantastic. I’m going to go book our group trip to Japan now. But before that, I just want to say how great it was to have you here. Thank you so much for joining me and Ross.

Thank you, Michelle.

No, thanks for having me. [MUSIC PLAYING]

Thanks for joining our conversation today. Give us a follow on your favorite podcast app. And if you’re so moved, leave us a nice review to let other people know why they should listen. We love hearing your questions and ideas for future conversations. So if you have one, share it with us in a voicemail by calling 212-556-7440. You can also email us at [email protected].

“Matter of Opinion” is produced by Phoebe Lett, Sophia Alvarez Boyd, and Andrea Betanzos. It’s edited by Jordana Hochman. Our fact-check team is Kate Sinclair, Mary Marge Locker, and Michelle Harris. Original music by Isaac Jones, Efim Shapiro, Carole Sabouraud, Sonia Herrero, and Pat McCusker. Mixing by Pat McCusker. Audience strategy by Shannon Busta and Kristina Samulewski. Our executive producer is Annie-Rose Strasser.

Hosted by Michelle Cottle and Ross Douthat

Listen to and follow ‘Matter of Opinion’ Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Amazon Music | YouTube | iHeartRadio

This week on the show, Michelle Goldberg joins Michelle Cottle and Ross Douthat to debate the gambles or gains Kamala Harris has made by picking Gov. Tim Walz of Minnesota as her running mate. They also discuss the ways the Trump-Vance ticket could recalibrate to regain their lead.

Plus, Goldberg is sunny on a new show you probably haven’t heard of.

(A full transcript of this audio essay will be available within 24 hours of publication in the audio player above.)

Recommended in this episode:

Don’t Listen to the Right. The Kamalanomenon Is Real. by Michelle Goldberg

The Focus Group Podcast episode “ Kamala Needs a DEI Pick (Straight White Dude) ” with Sarah Longwell

Sunny from Apple TV+

Thoughts? Email us at [email protected] .

Follow our hosts on X: Michelle Cottle ( @mcottle ) and Ross Douthat ( @DouthatNYT ).

“Matter of Opinion” is produced by Phoebe Lett, Sophia Alvarez Boyd and Andrea Betanzos. It is edited by Jordana Hochman. Mixing by Pat McCusker. Original music by Isaac Jones, Pat McCusker, Carole Sabouraud and Efim Shapiro. Our fact-checking team is Kate Sinclair, Mary Marge Locker and Michelle Harris. Audience strategy by Shannon Busta and Kristina Samulewski. Our executive producer is Annie-Rose Strasser.

Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook , Instagram , TikTok , WhatsApp , X and Threads .

Michelle Cottle writes about national politics for Opinion and is a host of the podcast “Matter of Opinion.” She has covered Washington and politics since the Clinton administration.  @ mcottle

Ross Douthat has been an Opinion columnist for The Times since 2009. He is the author, most recently, of “The Deep Places: A Memoir of Illness and Discovery.” @ DouthatNYT • Facebook

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Writing Skills Guru

Essay On My Birthday Party For School Students

• by Writing Skills Guru
• May 9, 2024 May 12, 2024

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Today is the most special day for me because today is my birthday, and I am excited to celebrate my birthday. And at my birthday party, I will enjoy myself with my friends and relatives.  On this  day  there will be tasty foods, music, dance, and a tasty cake.  And there will be lots of celebrations. And I am grateful to each one who made my birthday special. And I always remember this memory.

In this essay, I will give you an essay on my birthday party  and  after reading  this  essay  you will be able to write  an essay on  it without any mistakes.

Paragraph on My Birthday Party

Today is the most special day for me because today is my birthday. And on this day my friends will come to my birthday party. My friends and family  members  will celebrate this day with tasty cake, snacks, delicious foods, and music.  First  I will cut the cake and distribute it to all. Then we will eat delicious food. And last we all enjoy music with dance.  And I am  extremely grateful  for  everyone who came to my birthday party to make it  special   for me .  I will  always remember  this memory.

10 Lines on My Birthday Party

1. Today is so much special for me.

2. I am very excited!

3. I will celebrate my birthday party with my friends and family.

4. There will be  delicious,    music,  and sweet cake on my birthday.

5. There will be lots of laughter and happiness!

6. I am thankful for everyone at my birthday party.

7. We all create special memories on this day.

8. I am feeling so much happy.

9. This day will stay in my memory forever.

10. Thank you all for being at my birthday party.

Short Essay on My Birthday Party (339 words)

Essay on My Birthday Party

My birthday party was on the 2nd of November  and  it was a day full of joy and excitement. I had been waiting for my birthday for many weeks, and it was celebrated even better than I had imagined. The day started early as my family  and  I prepared for the celebration. We decorated the house with colourful balloons, streamers, and banners, creating a festive atmosphere that set the mood for the party.

I invited all my closest friends and family members to  join in  the fun. As they arrived, I greeted each one with a big smile and a warm hug.  It felt wonderful to be  surrounded by the people I love on such a special occasion.

The highlight of the party was undoubtedly the cake. My mom had spent hours baking and decorating a delicious chocolate cake with creamy vanilla frosting. It looked absolutely amazing, adorned with sparkling candles that spelt out my name. When it was time to blow out the candles, everyone gathered around and sang “Happy Birthday” to me. And this day I will never forget.

After enjoying the cake, it was time for presents. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends and family. They had chosen the perfect gifts for me,  ranging  from toys to books to board games. Each present  was a thoughtful reminder  of how much they cared about me, and I couldn’t wait to start using them.

Throughout the party,  we played games like musical chairs and passed the parcel, laughing and cheering each other on.  We danced to our favourite songs and took silly photos together, capturing memories that would last a lifetime.

As the day drew to a close, I could not help but feel grateful for the love and support of my friends and family. It had been an unforgettable birthday  party,  filled with laughter, joy, and cherished moments. I moved to bed that night with a heart full of happiness. I was thinking about my next year’s birthday celebration.

long Essay on My Birthday Party (524 words)

My birthday party was on the 2nd of November  and  it was a fantastic celebration full of joy, laughter, and lots of fun. I  was waiting  for my birthday for many weeks, and it was even better than I had imagined.

To start the day,  my family and I decorated our house with colourful balloons, streamers, and banners.   The beautiful decorations of the room are loved by everyone’s hearts  and   it has  set the perfect mood for the party.  My mother is  a wonderful  baker. She prepared a delicious chocolate cake with sprinkles on top, which was the centrepiece of our celebration.

As my friends started arriving at my home, the excitement increased fast. We greeted each other with smiles and hugs, eager to begin the celebrations. Soon, we dived into a series of games that had everyone laughing and cheering. We all played our favourite games like musical chairs and Pass the Parcel to creative games like Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Each activity brought us  all  closer together and filled the room with spreading joy.

When it was time to cut  in cake , my mother brought out the masterpiece she had created. As the candles sparkled on the top of the cake, everyone gathered around and sang “Happy Birthday” in unison. With a big smile  on my face , I made a wish and blew out the candles, feeling grateful for the love and warmth surrounding me. Then, we  all  eagerly ate great slices of the delicious cake, savouring every bite.

After the cake, it was time for the  highlight of the party  – opening gifts. The room became  full of suspense  as I tore colourful wrapping paper, seeing one delightful surprise after another.  From toys and games to books and art supplies,  each gift was a brilliant movement that filled my heart with happiness and thankfulness.  I couldn’t wait to play with my new toys and explore the worlds waiting to  be discovered  in the pages of my  new  books.

After the gifts were unwrapped and the cake enjoyed, the party continued with music and dancing. Some of us even dared to showcase our best dance moves, full of laughter and clapping from the crowd.

As the day drew  to a  close, I felt a profound sense of happiness wash over me. At my birthday party, I  was surrounded  by my friends and family, and I realized how truly blessed I was to have such wonderful people in my life.  Their love and support made my birthday party unforgettable, and I knew  that   the memories we created together would be loved  for years  to come .

In conclusion, my birthday party was a delightful celebration filled with laughter, love, and  special  moments. From the excitement of games and cake to the joy of opening presents and dancing with friends, every aspect of the day was a testament to the happiness  that comes from  being surrounded by loved ones.  It was a day I will always hold dear in my heart , a day  that reminded me of the beauty of friendship, family, and the simple joys of life.

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My wife isn't 'just' a stepmom to my son. He sees her as his other mom.

• My wife has been in my son's life since he was 6 years old.
• She has taken on a parental role, stepping in whenever I need extra help.
• Even though she's his stepmom, my son considers her his other mom.

After Vice President Kamala Harris announced she was running for president, one criticism lobbed against her was that she is not a parent because she has never given birth to children. But she is the stepmother to her husband Doug Emhoff's two children.

Like Harris, my wife is a stepmother to my son.

I am no longer in a relationship with his father and have been in a new relationship for four years. My wife came into my son's life when he was 6 years old and quickly stepped into a parental role. It was a role she enthusiastically took on.

Although she didn't give birth to my son, my wife is absolutely his second mother.

My son and wife's relationship started friendly

My wife didn't immediately take an authoritative role or force him to treat her like a parent. At first, she was more like a grown-up friend — someone he knew he needed to respect, but someone who would take him on drives to get ice cream or let him pretend to drive her car while I was inside the grocery store.

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I was worried about parenting with another person all the time. As the primary parent, I wasn't used to dividing parenting duties . My wife was aware of that and always deferred to me as the primary parent.

But the bond between my son and my wife was instant. He had never met someone I was dating before, but he liked her immediately.

My wife has taken on more responsibility as a stepmom

Over the last four years, she's taken on more parental responsibility but never tried to act like she was more of a parent than myself or my son's father. She is a bonus mom, someone there to kiss him goodnight , help him with his homework, and love him unconditionally.

During the pandemic, my wife volunteered to take the lead in helping my son with virtual school so I could focus on work. She created a schedule for him, made him lunch, and ensured he kept up with assignments. When the playgrounds opened, she would take him to play, armed with a backpack full of whatever was needed.

I have gone on several overnight trips , leaving the two of them alone together. My son doesn't even call or text me when I'm gone because he's having so much fun hanging out with my wife. I never have to worry about him; I know my wife will make sure he takes a bath and goes to bed on time.

There are days when I will ask her to tag in and do the bedtime routine because I'm working or want a break, and she does it without question. My son knows that if he needs something, he doesn't have to come to me all the time.

Seeing my wife willingly step into a parental role with my son has strengthened our relationship. I knew I loved her almost immediately after we met, but seeing how my son responded to her made me more secure in my decision.

Sometimes, she still refers to him as mine, and I always remind her that she's his mom, too. We do everything as a team: school meetings, performances, birthday parties . Everyone knows us as his two moms, and there's no one else I could imagine doing this with.

My son now sees my wife as the missing piece to our family puzzle. He proudly claims her as his other mom.

"You're my mom too," my son will say when my wife calls herself his stepmom. He made that decision. My wife never wanted to force a close relationship on him, but he pushed for it.

Media has warped the perception of stepmoms

Popular media depictions of stepmoms are largely negative. The common trope is that they're evil.

For example, you have characters like Meredith Blake in the Lindsay Lohan version of "The Parent Trap," the Baroness von Schraeder in " The Sound of Music ," and, of course, the prototype: Cinderella's Evil Stepmother.

These women are always seen as temptresses who come in and seduce the father into marrying them before revealing they intend to get rid of his daughter so that she will be the only woman in his life.

Maybe there are stepmoms out there who fit this description, but by and large, stepmoms are there to be whoever their step kids want them to be.

I know that's exactly the role my wife plays, and my son and I are all the more lucky for it.

Watch: Why one mother fled Texas to keep her child safe

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My Birthday Party Essay | Essay On My Birthday

Hey Guys, You Are Welcome To Our Essayonthe.com Website. In Today’s Article, We Will Tell You About An Essay On My Birthday . If You Have To Write An Essay On My Birthday, Then You Can Write Something Like This.

Essay On Birthday Party In 250 Words

I Shall Ever Remember My 18th Birthday. It Is A Unforgettable Day For Me. My Birthday Falls On The 16th Of September Every Year. This Year A Cool And Very Sweet Breeze Was Blowing.

The Building Looked Gorgeous. The Drawing Room Was Tastefully Decorated F With Flowers, Balloons, And Colourful Paper Buntings. Two Banana Plants Are Posted At Both Sides Of The Portico. Gave The Building A Festive Look.

The Birthday Cake Had Been Placed On A Large Table With 8 Candles Fixed On It. It Was A Large And Beautiful Vanilla Cake. I Blew The Candles In A Blow And Then Cut The Cake. My Friends, Relatives Including My Family Cheered Me Up And Sang, “Happy Birthday To You.” (Cutting Of Birthday Cake)

I Was Given So Many Gifts, All Wrapped Beautifully. There Were So Much Fun, Merry-making, Jokes, And Laughter. So Many Lovely Guests There For Me. My Joy Knew No Bounds To Get A Slim And Expensive Mobile As A Gift. It Was From My Uncle.

Dew This Day Is Always Cherished By Me. Sometimes I Wonder Why Birthdays Don’t Come Frequently. I Can Never Forget This Happy Occasion.

Essay On Birthday Party In 500 Words

Human Life Is Full Of Joys And Sorrows, Smiles And Tears, And Trials And Tribulations. We Know That In Life Sorrow Comes In The Wake Of Happiness.

We Usually Feel Depressed In Sorrow And Elated At Success. Instead Of Brooding Over Sorrows, We Should Face The Challenges Of Life With A Smile And Always Look Forward To Happy Days. Birthday Is One Such Happy Day In Life.

My Birthday Is 16th September 1994. My Father Is A Doctor And My Mother, A Lecturer In English, At Ravenshaw College, Cuttack. I Am Proud To Have My Grand Parents Alive. They Are Very Affectionate Towards Me.

It Is Natural For Them To Celebrate My Birthday With Much Pomp And Show. I Lave A Lot Of Friends And School Mates Who Love Me Very Much And Celebrate My Birthday In Their Ways.

A Few Days Before My Birthday I Pester My Parents To Give Me Some Money For Buying Chocolates And Lozenges. I Distribute These Sweets Among My Friends And Classmates At School On My Birthday. I Also Distribute Sweets Among My Teachers And Pray For Their Blessing On Touching Their Feet. They, In Their Turn, Bless Me Wishing Me All Success In Life.

On The Morning Of My Birthday, My Parents Take Me To The Nearby Temple Where They Offer Puja To The Deity Praying For Me A Long Successful Life. They Also Pray That I Should Be Great And Noble In Life And Glorify Their Family. They Distribute Sweets Among The Beggars Sitting Outside The Temple And Give Them Some Money.

In The Evening A Grand Party Is Arranged And All My Friends And Relatives Of My Parents Are Invited To It.

At The Entrance Of The Beautifully Decorated Hall Of My House, I Stand With My Parents And Receive Gifts And Bouquets From My Friends And Relatives. All Of Them Seat Themselves Comfortably On The Sofa And Chairs And Enjoy Either Cold Or Hot Drinks.

The Celebrations Begin With The Blowing Of A Conch. In The Happy Company Of My Parents, Grand Parents, And Relatives I Light The Candles And Cut The Cake.

My Friends And Relatives Encourage Me With Loud Cheers And Clapping Of Hands. My Friends Take Photographs Of Me In Different Positions- Sometimes Alone, Sometimes With My Family, And Sometimes

With My Friends. In Another Hall, All Of Them Enjoy The Feast Prepared For Them. In This Way, I Spend The Day With Great Rejoicings.

This Apart, I Would Like To Celebrate This Day By Organising A Blood Donation Camp Where I And Parents Would Donate Blood For The Poor And Helpless. Young men From Among Our Relatives Would Also, On Our Request, Donate Blood For Such People.

• My Mother Essay

To Donate Blood For The People Especially For The Poor Means To Give Them A New Lease Of Life And There Can’t Be A Better Virtue Than This. So I Think This Would Be A Very Fitting Way For My Parents To Celebrate My Birthday.

Friends, We Hope That You Would Have Liked This Article On Your Essay On My Birthday , If So, Then You Must Share This Article With All Your Friends. Thank You

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