Friday, August 10

We're having a party tonight!

My poor first born child has yet to 'properly' celebrate her 7th birthday. The actual date was the 18 June but if you read this blog you'll know that the late June early July period was slightly hectic, so the whole party thing was put on hold. However, a couple of weeks ago Tom and I decided we really ought to do something because really, the cost (emotionally and financially) of hosting a children's birthday party is probably less than the cost (emotionally and financially) of her future therapy if we don't.

So I began the search for a party venue that didn't involve me having to do anything met our high standards of fun and hygiene. The final decision was ice skating. Although we get pretty cold winters here, and last year half the plants in our garden died of frost bite, we don't get snow and ice. Coming from Scotland I think it's important that my children experience the torture and agony of sub zero temperatures the excitement of a winter wonderland. So ice skating it is. There is also something called 'snow play' and some sort of sled riding as well, I wasn't listening.

To keep with this party's 'Mummy is not doing a damn thing' theme I went and bought a birthday cake today. It's a nice one though, mud cake with a Happy Birthday message on it. I have been known to make birthday cakes. In fact most years I do, there have been sparkling stars, a moon, ladybirds, trains (Aislin likes trains a lot) and of course let's not forget the divorce-inducing pink fairy castle that Hannah requested for her 3rd birthday. Aislin was only 3 months old when Hannah turned 3 and at that stage I was delirious with exhaustion and the pain of mastitis so when she asked for the pink fairy castle I didn't really have the mental stability to think it through and scream 'NO!!' I was in charge of design and Tom was in charge of engineering. There were parts of this cake that required him to spend time in the shed with power tools. It was a difficult time. We have only recently started talking to each other again. However, the resulting cake looked lovely - it was so precarious you couldn't touch it and eating any of it was risky because of the splinters - but it was lovely. The saddest part is that my much loved father-in-law had to witness me on the morning of the party, attempting to decorate the cake, still in my dressing gown, leaking breast milk and saying 'fuck' a lot.

You'll understand why children's parties cause me a bit of anxiety.

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