On Saturday, Ari had his first birthday bash, in which we invited the entire class. We celebrated his 4th birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. (His choice!)

Twenty-two children, including close friends, classmates and neighbors, showed up. I wrote “No gifts please!” on the party invitations of his classmates and neighbors, avoiding 30 new toys on his bedroom floor.

He still received plenty of presents, including a couple Gwen Stefani CDs from us (yes, he loves her music and always asks us to look for her on the radio, thinking we have control over it), a few other presents from close friends, a suitcase full of clothes and gifts from Abuela who showed up yesterday from New Hampshire.

And the best part for Mami and Papi is compared to the other venues Chuck E. Cheese is cheap. We paid $12 per child, which included pizza, cake, tokens, a performance by a guy wearing a Chuck E. suit and use of the venue. For the adults, we ordered a couple large pizzas and veggie platters. We had a grand ole time.

Wrong.

Actually, it seemed that everyone had a blast -- except for Ari. I received some comfort photographing the other kids dancing around Chuck E., but Ari kept his distance. He spent the first half of his party throwing tantrums and sitting with me at the table ignoring his friends. He spent the second half of the party, playing the games with me -- and ignoring his friends. I hardly said a word to anyone at the party.

I have vowed not to throw him any more large parties unless he specifically asks for it. He is a shy kid and does better in a setting with no more than two other children.

I was besieged by disappointment and mommy guilt as the birthday boy seemed tortured. At one point, I half-jokingly told a mom, “Great. Chuck E. is about to come out. Ari will be traumatized for life!”

“Nah. He’ll do his quick dance then head out back to make pizzas.”

Rather than beat myself over it -- was this not the reaction I expected -- I got in the car and told my husband, “You live and learn.” I have vowed to respect my child for who he is and that means not pushing my expectations and idea of fun on him. Sure, I have fond memories of childhood birthday parties that included lots of people. But Ari is not me -- and that is okay.

How do you celebrate your children’s birthdays, MotherTalkers? What are your most precious -- and worst -- memories?