Watching my four-year-old in the days leading up to his fifth birthday, I realised that nothing else compares to the excitement a small child feels. Every time it was mentioned or he caught a glimpse of wrapping paper his whole face would light up and he would bounce off in the best of moods.
Meanwhile, I have been silently panicking. Being temporarily lame after my recent netball injury, preparations have been slow to say the least. Each morning, my son has arrived early in my bedroom, peered over me and said, “Mummy, how is your foot?” How considerate and caring I thought. He then added, “You will be alright to wrap my presents won’t you?” Presents! Oh yes. The day before the big day, I dash off to Yeovil and drag The Toddler and my leg around to find a much longed for Pirate Ship. Back home, exhausted and a little stiff I realise that I must now turn my attention to all the other paraphernalia that goes with a five-year-old birthday party. I turn to the Internet for some much needed help and stumble on www.partypieces.co.uk. Here was the solution to all my last minute problems. The following day a large box arrived full of reasonably priced pirate plates, hats, filled party bags and balloons. Also, to my utter relief a ‘make your own party cake pack’, containing cake mix, icing, disposable tray and a basic step-by-step guide, that even the amateur cake baker like me could follow. For the first time ever, I was able to shift from the chocolate sponge with Cadbury’s buttons, to an impressive treasure box, complete with gold coins. I was up there with the mothers who create the most impressive train and then try and convince me it was just cobbled together the night before.
That evening, I turned my attention to wrapping up the pirate ship and imagined the look on his small face when he discovered what lay beneath the Dr Who wrapping paper. I opened the box and out rolled out several small bags containing lots of small pieces and a five-page instruction leaflet on putting the ship together. “Aaaaargh”, I shrieked. Late into the night, after several glasses of wine and under the watchful gaze of the border terrorist, I hand-built the ship. I collapsed into bed and wished myself to sleep, rather than worrying about the weather forecast.
At 2am, a small hand nudged me. “Is it my birthday yet?” “No,” I groaned. For the next few hours, I drifted back to those early morning contractions five years ago and before I knew it, the nudge returned. “Mummy, it’s raining.” I jumped up, flung open the curtains and looked out onto driving rain drenching the fields. Oh help! However, as I turned to catch a glimpse of my excited son standing tall and flexing his muscles in the mirror, I could not help but smile. “Look, I am definitely bigger now. I look as though I’m five don’t I?”
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Friday, 4 July 2008
Friday, 23 November 2007
Punk or princess
A few weeks ago we went to our friend’s 40th birthday party. The theme was Punks and Princesses. I usually dread dressing up parties and make a feeble attempt at wearing the odd themed item. However, my husband loves fancy dress and on one of the first occasions we went out together, I remember him turning up in a gold, leather, Flash Gordon suit. On the odd occasion, he wore ‘Flash’, as it was known, even when we were not even asked to wear fancy dress!
Unfortunately, Flash did not really fit the bill, so we went off to a Fancy Dress shop in Semley, which is a hidden treasure trove of fancy dress costumes of all description. Once fully ‘punked up’, we began to get quite excited, not only about going out which is a rare treat with three small children, but also about the prospect of dressing up in some extreme garments. When the evening arrived, we had great fun getting ready. My husband had us rolling around on the floor laughing, as he appeared dressed in a ripped denim waistcoat, jeans and a black leather hat with a gold chain on it. I wore a black net mini skirt, psychedelic pink netted top, a pink spikey wig, studded jewellery, topped off with black lipstick and an awful lot of eye liner.
My daughter, who was busy upstairs putting her Baby Annabel to bed, suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her little face said it all. She stared, wide-eyed at us with her jaw dropped. What had her parents become? Obviously she was used to her and her brothers dressing up, but punks had never featured amongst the fairy, pirate and Snow White outfits. We were laughing, attempting to make light of the situation, but she wasn’t. “Mummy, you are naughty,” she said. “I really don’t think you should go out like that.” The tables had turned and I was being given a dressing down by my five-year-old over my appearance. As we left, singing, “In the Navy,” due to my husband looking more ‘Village People’ than punk, she stood at the doorway in her pink, spotty nightie, utterly horrified that her parents were daring to go out in public dressed like that.
When we arrived, the pub was full of friends from all over the village dressed in an impressive assortment of punks or princess costumes, all revelling in their rare fancy dress moment. A friend said that her son had been utterly bemused, and totally shocked when he came downstairs to find Daddy in the sitting room, dressed in a long, black velvet dress and a pearl choker. He promptly turned and headed back up the stairs, trying to eliminate this vision of his father, the strong, skillful cabinet maker turned elegant princess, from his mind. This was a great occasion for parents to raid the dressing up box and we loved every minute of it, but perhaps next time we do need to prepare our children, to avoid any long-term psychological damage.
Unfortunately, Flash did not really fit the bill, so we went off to a Fancy Dress shop in Semley, which is a hidden treasure trove of fancy dress costumes of all description. Once fully ‘punked up’, we began to get quite excited, not only about going out which is a rare treat with three small children, but also about the prospect of dressing up in some extreme garments. When the evening arrived, we had great fun getting ready. My husband had us rolling around on the floor laughing, as he appeared dressed in a ripped denim waistcoat, jeans and a black leather hat with a gold chain on it. I wore a black net mini skirt, psychedelic pink netted top, a pink spikey wig, studded jewellery, topped off with black lipstick and an awful lot of eye liner.
My daughter, who was busy upstairs putting her Baby Annabel to bed, suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her little face said it all. She stared, wide-eyed at us with her jaw dropped. What had her parents become? Obviously she was used to her and her brothers dressing up, but punks had never featured amongst the fairy, pirate and Snow White outfits. We were laughing, attempting to make light of the situation, but she wasn’t. “Mummy, you are naughty,” she said. “I really don’t think you should go out like that.” The tables had turned and I was being given a dressing down by my five-year-old over my appearance. As we left, singing, “In the Navy,” due to my husband looking more ‘Village People’ than punk, she stood at the doorway in her pink, spotty nightie, utterly horrified that her parents were daring to go out in public dressed like that.
When we arrived, the pub was full of friends from all over the village dressed in an impressive assortment of punks or princess costumes, all revelling in their rare fancy dress moment. A friend said that her son had been utterly bemused, and totally shocked when he came downstairs to find Daddy in the sitting room, dressed in a long, black velvet dress and a pearl choker. He promptly turned and headed back up the stairs, trying to eliminate this vision of his father, the strong, skillful cabinet maker turned elegant princess, from his mind. This was a great occasion for parents to raid the dressing up box and we loved every minute of it, but perhaps next time we do need to prepare our children, to avoid any long-term psychological damage.
Friday, 23 February 2007
Party panic
We have just recovered from ‘The Birthdays’. Two of our children were born on the same day four years apart so the poor little mites have to share their special day together. I think most of you will sympathise with me when it comes to organising The Birthday Party, particularly when we are dealing with a grown-up, pink and glittery girl and an active baby boy who crawls in mud and is quite partial to eating the odd woodlouse.
To get some help, I ‘googled’ “childrens’ parties” and discovered some terrifying facts. One report revealed that UK parents spend more than £1.25 billion a year on childrens’ birthday parties and an average of £18 per head. Apparently, the fifth birthday is the biggest with many parents spending more than £500 on it. Extraordinarily, more than half of parents say they worry more about what other parents think than about what their children want. So, according to this research, if our two children shared a party and invited around 30 children between them, we could be digging into our pockets for a staggering £792!
Advice offered by experts also says to never ask a child what sort of party it wants, avoid organising a party during the afternoon as children are too tired, offer carrot and cucumber sticks rather than crisps, sweeten the cake with apple juice, not sugar, and absolutely never ever have balloons as they may burst and traumatise children for life.
Thankfully, I am not aware of any parent who really minds what others think about their party. Most just want to get through the day and keep their sanity intact. The parties we go to are fun, sweet-filled, traditional parties with an abundance of balloons. In our case though, we plan to spend the next eleven months persuading our daughter to celebrate her sixth birthday with a few close friends in a local coffee shop. Meanwhile, perhaps we could plead with a local farmer to take our son on a tractor ride - a truly memorable birthday treat for any two-year-old boy.
To get some help, I ‘googled’ “childrens’ parties” and discovered some terrifying facts. One report revealed that UK parents spend more than £1.25 billion a year on childrens’ birthday parties and an average of £18 per head. Apparently, the fifth birthday is the biggest with many parents spending more than £500 on it. Extraordinarily, more than half of parents say they worry more about what other parents think than about what their children want. So, according to this research, if our two children shared a party and invited around 30 children between them, we could be digging into our pockets for a staggering £792!
Advice offered by experts also says to never ask a child what sort of party it wants, avoid organising a party during the afternoon as children are too tired, offer carrot and cucumber sticks rather than crisps, sweeten the cake with apple juice, not sugar, and absolutely never ever have balloons as they may burst and traumatise children for life.
Thankfully, I am not aware of any parent who really minds what others think about their party. Most just want to get through the day and keep their sanity intact. The parties we go to are fun, sweet-filled, traditional parties with an abundance of balloons. In our case though, we plan to spend the next eleven months persuading our daughter to celebrate her sixth birthday with a few close friends in a local coffee shop. Meanwhile, perhaps we could plead with a local farmer to take our son on a tractor ride - a truly memorable birthday treat for any two-year-old boy.
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