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A young family moved in on a nearby street and we’re determined to give them a warmer welcome than what we got. It’s not like folks were mean upon our arrival, but there is more than one house on the block with a lawn service, drawn curtains and a dark porch light on Halloween. Either they’re in the Witness Protection Program or they’re dead.

So we decided to host a neighborhood New Year’s get together to show-off the new people, kid-friendly of course. The invitations were met with enthusiasm, and by that I mean A LOT of enthusiasm. We’d causally mention the event and people wanted in – and to bring friends. Then I got a phone call from another friend who heard about it. And could they bring some other kids they were watching? You get the picture. Plus, it got to be a real rush to extend invites to such happy recipients.

Now, let’s be clear. This has VERY LITTLE to do with us as hosts and EVERYTHING to do with the nature of the holiday. While Christmas is the epitome of child fare – everyone wants to see the kiddies around the tree, New Year’s Eve is its polar opposite. And since you can’t pack your babies up with the Christmas décor, it’s simply a non-event for parents.

I’ll be honest here; it did get a little wild. The party topped out at about 34 guests, nearly half being kids – and keep in mind we didn’t even invite our core friend group. At points, I was holding babies whose names I didn’t even know and passing them off to adults (no backsies!) while I tried to keep up with the all the food people generously brought.

We fired up the inflatable jumpy house in our rec room (an impulse purchase that helped me through a very dark week last winter – don’t judge me) threw a movie on the TV and 60 mini-corns in the oven. And at 8:00 p.m. we lined up pots and pans, gave each kid a spoon and brought in 2008 with a ruckus. It was the New Year somewhere, right?

The party broke up around 9:20 (we’re in our 30’s and have little kids – don’t judge us.) On the door stoop, people thanked us like we had given them a kidney. They put their kids and their crock-pots back onto their sleds and shuffled off into the dark, cold night.

Two dishwasher cycles and a Hefty bag later, our house was nearly back to order. It was definitely worth the effort; but then again, public service usually is.

Read more essays by Lucie B. Amundsen.