Birthday 0 - Me 1

I am a survivor. Of a sixth birthday party with thirteen children attending. A party I had to manage, but thank fuck for organised "you hand over your money we will make the pancakes and provide the playground" situations. Still, my 7 1/2 months pregnant form had to pour a lot of drinks, settle a lot of disputes, put suncream on a few children and cut a fair number of pancakes. I am most grateful that both An and my mother came to help, especially after yesterday when half-baked boy decided to turn himself head-up (and feet right down in my bladder/pelvic area) and kick start my practice contractions. For some of the party, he had hiccups just underneath my ribs. Another hour or so he just stretched himself out nicely. Very cute and entertaining, actually.

A nice little detail: all thirteen children also survived this party. Not even a little collateral damage. I would have accepted a bloody nose or a scraped knee as acceptable injuries, but not even that. The best they came up with were a lost plaster and a bruise-to-be.

After this first party, I just have the family party to go on Sunday, but Babes will be around for that, and we're doing a leisurely barbecue in the garden. That should be just fine. In fact, it will be a lot of fun if we get the paddling pool out and have a pretty cake. And then there's the actual birth-day of course, but all we need then is some home-made decorations and a card, and he gets to pick his own dinner. After which the school holidays start and I will get a rest. Oh yeah. (Sarcasm alert.)

Back to today's party - what I noticed was how incredibly accustomed these children are to everything being done for them. If it didn't make me sound like such an old crone, I'd say "children nowadays don't know the value of money" and "these kids today are spoilt rotten." Ah what the hell - children nowadays really don't know the value of money and they are completely spoilt rotten. I have grey hair and a pointy nose - I can be a crone.

So many of the children came to tell me they were "hungry" after the pancakes, and a lot were "thirsty" but not willing to drink the left-over lemonade. My birthday boy joined in nicely - one friend turned up with his granny but no present, and Jack was very indignant: "What do you mean, no present?" I had a quiet word, but my point was rather spoiled by the mother turning up later with two large presents (both of her children were invited).

I need a rest just now. That seems to be all I do in the evenings now - rest. Last night, I even had to admit defeat and not blog on a weekday. It felt awful, but it had to be done. I went to sleep at eight o'clock with the children and didn't reemerge until seven this morning. (I tossed and turned from one to six, but hey I was resting - sort of.)

I'm going to have to accept that this is going to happen more often, however much I hate it. I have started to carry a notebook in my bag, though - thus making the most of inspiration when it strikes. My long-term memory being reduced to about a five minute interval just now, that is no luxury. I just got myself a new diary (the last one ran out in January - I figured it was time) and on next Thursday's slot, it just says "Doing something, but WHAT?" If I'm doing something with you, please do tell me.

Right - I'm going to watch some mindless TV now, and then I'm going to complain to Babes for a while because we're out of lovely icecream (I forgot to buy more). Then more rest. Future posts I am contemplating:

Lost without wet wipes

and

The puddle in the kitchen

Can you tell we're still potty training?