– ‘Welcome everybody! Why are you here?’
– ‘To do some cooking!’
– ‘To eat some cakes!’
– ‘Anything else? Is it Christmas?’
– ‘It’s Lara and Rhea’s birthday!’
This year we had the girls’ birthday party at a cooking school where they made muffins. First they drew on their chef’s paper hats with pencil, were aproned up, washed their hands then got straight in to the mixing in their individual bowls. Steve and I stayed outside and chatted with the parents, sipping tea.
The party marked the end of a full week of birthday festivities – we enjoyed it but it makes June a gruelling month. Scheduling, inviting people to, shopping for, baking for, cleaning up the house, remembering the matches. . . one family birthday party down. Considering, writing lists, buying presents and cards and wrapping paper, and at last we got to see their excitement and delight on the birthday morning. I went in to their preschool and played the recorder and flute to their class on a wet day: I thought it would be memorable on their birthday, and the teachers had invited parents to come during music week. Then there was shopping in a distant mall with them late into the evening for new swimmers in dusky pink and fluorescent orange, followed by a late dinner of pasta with grated cheese. Two events down.
And finally the children’s party. It was outsourced, but not the cake making or the party bags to take home. After the train cake when they turned 3 and the typewriter cake when they turned 4, they have been poring over the Women’s Weekly Children’s Birthday party cake book for the past six months or so, contemplating which cake they would request for their 5th birthday. The chocolate freckles triumphed over the smarties of last year’s cake influencing their choice this year: a jack-in-the-box cake. I wrestled with this one for three hours and the result was OK, if a bit lopsided and messy. It was tasty though and was a good size; there were hardly any leftovers.
The parents told us afterwards that their children enjoyed the party and the tiny whisks we included in their party bags went down well. Lara afterwards gave us a blow-by-blow account of the event so I know she had a great time. We were happy that we sung the Happy Birthday song once for each girl this year instead of the confused single song to ‘Lara-and-Rhea/Rhea-and-Lara,’ and they both had a turn at blowing out the candles.
We are working on streamlining this birthday celebration thing year by year to get a balance between what really thrills the girls and what doesn’t leave us paralytic with exhaustion afterwards. A week clear, we spent this Saturday inside in our pyjamas threading beads into necklaces, painting bubbly glitter paint on to adhesive butterflies, reading the newspaper and (in my case) sleeping. We enjoyed the luxuries our little house offers: the cosy fireplace, warm bath, and electric-blanketed bed. And the prospect of a full year clear of our children’s next birthday celebrations.
I’ll sleep to that.
