No Mo FOMO

“What should we do for New Years Eve?” I fear if I don’t fully embrace the most festive spirit at the chiming of midnight, the rest of the year may be doomed to the same level of dullness. My husband responds with a shrug.

I know it’s the last minute to be planning. Most people made reservations or sent party invites long ago. I never seem to think ahead for New Years because at our house, we are under constant party pressure from October 31 to January 10: Dan’s birthday on Halloween, then Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, Emelyn’s birthday, and Brad’s birthday all fall in that 2-month window. All deserve merriment! The intended object of celebration must feel spotlighted, beloved, toasted, whether they want it or not.

I come by this desire to make celebrations special honestly. With my birthday two days after Christmas, my childhood presents were most often wrapped in Christmas paper and tucked under the tree. Of course, I couldn’t wait to open them two days later, so when my actual birthday arrived it was a bit of a letdown.

Growing up in the 70s in a middle-class family, dining out was rare and throwing big parties was out of my mother’s comfort zone. The years we lived in my parent’s hometown or were visiting at Christmas hold my best childhood birthday memories. My mother invited my cousins to play and she bought a beautiful doll dress cake. (If you’ve never seen one of these, it was a little girl’s height of party perfection: a plastic fake Barbie poked up from the center of an antebellum ball gown, the icing swirling up the mound of cake and piped as a bodice into an elegant edible dream.)

But I digress. This year we tied all three post-Christmas birthdays together into one extravagance at a fancy French restaurant since we wouldn’t be together for the two January birthdays. At that point—with my party planning pooped out and my budget blown—I ignored the impending “Great Countdown.”

But now I feel about New Year’s the way I did when I opened all my birthday presents early and had nothing left to look forward to—no Barbie cake, no cousins to play with. It’s the worst kind of FOMO.

We toss around a couple of ideas to keep the New Year’s Blahs at bay; “We could grab burgers at the Village Pub. Or should we order in and watch the ball drop on T.V.?” Dan’s suggestions fall flat.

“Remember last year how I wanted to go to see the Blueberry Drop in Hammonton?” I get a little gleam in my eye. The Blueberry Capital of the World is just a hop—skip—and jump through the Jersey Pines. I imagine watching an enormous blueberry drop from Town Hall in the center of this storybook community will be like a living in Hallmark movie setting, or a trip to Stars Hollow. “Let’s do it this year!”

My husband raises an eyebrow and says, “Can we stay awake that late?”

I remember something one of my Hammonton friends told me. “We could go to the early one for kids!” The Noon Year’s Eve Celebration might be the answer. I can get the excitement of the confetti cannon countdown, take selfies at the 2026 photo backdrop, all twelve hours early.

My husband is looking even more skeptical. So how will I ring in the New Year? Stay Tuned. Only my Instagram posts will tell.

Your Turn: Do you feel pressure to do something fabulous for New Year's?