Since the miscarriage, I've needed (REALLY needed) something to focus on. With Alex's birthday imminent, I found my release in the planning of his birthday party. I poured my heart and soul into it and although on the day it was completely bonkers, I think it worked in all the ways it was meant to. Having said that, inviting nine small boys and three little girls into your house for two hours of sugar fuelled mania in one go is not just a bit daft, but bordering on insanity. Alex was insistent on many boys this year, seeing as, "I don't like gewls, they wear pink and they're yucky". Except apparently for Millie because, "Actually, I don't mind Millie ... she's ok".
And who could not love the lovely Millie, who not only graced us with her presence, but did it all wearing bonus bunny ears.
But I digress. Alex decided it was to be an underwater birthday party this year, and the conservatory became our fishy palace. What kind of idiot spends hours the previous evening decorating the conservatory and then completely forgets to take photos before the room gets trashed? That would be me then.
I am in awe of the amazing destructive talents of some small boys. By the end of the afternoon, only the schools of fish hanging from the ceiling remained intact.
At least I had the presence of mind to photograph the enormous whale cake just before one of the said small boys decided to poke a sticky finger in it. It's the biggest cake I've ever made and I had to do it in the roasting tin, in the absence of a cake tin big enough. I have a suspicion it may have tasted faintly of roast beef, but no-one seemed to mind.
Last year the weather on the day of Alex's party was so fabulous everyone managed to play outside. This year I'd planned on sending them all outside once more for a fishy treasure hunt. In my head this was a truly fabulous idea. By the time they'd had a couple of rounds of pass the parcel and pin the tail on the whale, then all put their shoes on, hunted for the many fish we were going to stash in the garden and come back inside, it would be time for tea. Unfortunately much drizzle and a soggy garden put paid to that cunning plan and we were faced with the prospect of finding more ways of entertaining hoards of children In The House.
I found myself with a rather large glass of wine in my hand and as my resistance to alcohol is still impressively woeful, it didn't take long for me find my happy place. Steve found a stash of easter eggs in the garage and the children had a treasure hunt anyway.
Suddenly it was tea time and the boys all wanted to play waiter and serve each other. We let them.
As a grand finale, they gutted a rather startled looking fish. Steve held it up ....
... then quickly ran away before his limbs were mistaken for something that could be stockpiled and shoved into a party bag.
All in all, it was two hours of mental mayhem. Children seemed to multiply before my eyes as my house visibly shrank. But, I'll gladly do it all again next year. Except maybe with a few less boys....