It’s Your Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To

SARAH TOPPING - 21 Feb 17

Last Sunday 12^th February will always be the day I got up at 5.15am to make sandwiches for my son’s 4^th birthday party. On a scale of 1-10 ridiculousness, it’s an 11, I know that.

In my defence, our recently turned four-year-old had wandered into our room at 4am saying ‘Hello mummy, I just wanted to come and see you,’ which is nice and all but 9am is infinitely preferable (as if). So, I was already wide awake, thinking about the still seemingly endless To Do list, and it made sense to stop thinking about it and get it done.

As I sat there, buttering bread and muttering to myself about how ridiculous this was, the sun came up and the hours till we had to leave for the hall flew by. It was a frantic Crossing Things Off a List, Running Around Shouting Random Words like ‘Sausage rolls!’ ‘Matches!’ ‘Party bags!’ ‘Balloons!’ ‘Kettle!’ and Wondering How Will We Transport This Massive Cake? frenzy. Despite having arisen at an insane hour, there still wasn’t enough time to get everything done in a calm and laid back fashion.

It seems there’s nothing especially calm or laid back about organising a child’s birthday party, which is why the original plan had been to go to Legoland, only it doesn’t open until March. Curses! He’s been talking about his fourth birthday since about last July, when he announced that Mummy and Daddy would definitely be invited and he’d like a bouncy castle, please. I couldn’t imagine a bouncy castle in our garden in February; ‘Dear Zach’s Friend, you are invited to come and bounce around in our freezing cold, wet garden and traipse mud everywhere and spill juice and tread cake crumbs into the carpet in celebration of Z turning four, yippppppppppppeeeeeee!’

That’s why Legoland seemed a good plan – foiled again. But a local hall plus Spiderman bouncy castle plus some of Z’s nursery friends and our local friends and kids, that could be done. It just kind of escalated, you know, to 21 kids plus three babies plus adults but it was fine! Fine, it would all be fine, she said in trepidation . . .

And you know what? It bloody well was.

It was more than fine. It was brilliant.

All that time and effort and planning felt interminable, but it was about four weeks in total. And it culminated in one delighted little boy, running up to me and clutching my arm saying ‘Mummy, mummy, my friends are HERE! They came to my party!’ before running off for more joyful flinging himself up and down and all around. Some of our friends kindly captured the moment I brought him his cake to blow out his four candles (oh how the Fork Handles gag kept me chuckling throughout the prep). The look of pride and happiness on his face, the tears I choked back as we all sang to him, I’ll never forget it. Yes, that sweetie train cake sent me off the rails the night before, there were tears as I resigned myself to it being A Disaster. Until it turned out chucking a load of sweets all over it would save the day. But when he’d found the picture of the cake he wanted despite – more insanity – not actually liking cake, and told me he knew I could do it, ‘I believe in you mummy!’, then too damn right I was going to do it. As someone who prefers to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen, I will always do my best to make my kids’ a special birthday cake, it’s only once a year after all (thank Mary this is so).

The day may have started too early and made me never want to see cling film again, but it ended with one gleeful birthday boy and the nicest, coldest glass of prosecco I think I’ve ever had. I’d have preferred the whole bottle with a straw, but apparently that’s still frowned upon in pregnancy. Oh well, next time.

And then, a day after his party, in the early hours when I was awake as usual with Uncomfortable Bump, I came across an article via Facebook, all about children’s parties. Specifically, about not letting ‘Over-the-Top’ birthday parties become the new normal. I started reading it and cringed, I may have even blushed. Oh no! Was I . . . had I . . . was I one of these parents? Had I gone too far? Should I have invited four friends over for games and pizza, though he doesn’t like pizza, but then again, he doesn’t like cake either and look at all the trouble I went to for that and oh no and I’m mortified and and . . .

Enough.

Because there was also a line in there about helping out all the other parents and throwing a mediocre party and that will be okay.

But . . . hang on a moment. My little boy’s birthday party wasn’t about all the other parents out there and keeping them happy. It was about him. Full stop. It was about him, and how he’d asked to celebrate. A bouncy castle, his friends, a cake. It’s not too much to ask for, and we were happy and able to oblige, and we want to celebrate him and make memories. Isn’t making happy memories what all this is for? I agree with the article saying all the child needs is for you to remember the day, and to make them feel loved. Of course.

But shouldn’t we be able to choose how we do this, without being scared of being judged for being too elaborate or too simple or too showy or too mediocre? Is that too much to ask? Then a few hours later, I spotted a photo on Instagram of Giovanna Fletcher wearing an @mutha.hood top, with one of the best slogans I’ve ever seen when it comes to this motherhood lark.

‘Mother like no one’s judging.’

Yes! And thank you. That’s what I needed to see whilst feeling simultaneously silly and spectacularly judged, all from one article. Can’t we all just do it our way, for our kids? We can’t and won’t all make the same choices, and wouldn’t it be dull if we did?

Each and every one of us is doing our best, after all – and as my mum always tells me – that’s all you can ever do.

Image credit: Fotolia.com

SARAH TOPPING

Sarah Topping is a freelance creative copywriter at Playing with Words and former copywriter at Penguin Children's. Her clients include Pottermore from J.K. Rowling, Enid Blyton Entertainment, BBC Worldwide, Puffin Books and World Book Day. Sarah lives in London with her husband Adam and their sons Zachary and Jonah, who rock (and rule) their world. In between freelancing, she writes children’s stories and blogs about motherhood in all its guises, from the magic and joy to the potty training, tantrums and tripping over toys (pass the wine!). @SarahTopping3

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