Birthday Party

I very much blame The Cousin. I was not even going to have a 1st Birthday Party for Jonty.  But she put the pressure on me and here I am.  Sunday morning, guests due to arrive at 2pm.  I was awake at 2am after feeding Jonty making The List in my head.  In the end I had to read a terrifying novel to settle myself back to sleep.

Troops were mobilised in Afganistan with less drama than there will be organising this family celebration this afternoon.  And the reason I agreed to it in the first place is that I  knew The Aunties would step up and offer to bring stuff.  The is what The Cousin said they do (these people don't understand that I've been living sans famile for 20 years and I had forgotten how the system worked).  So I would not be making all of the party food myself.  Ah yes but nobody told The Cousin about The Hostess' Guilt.  If is my party, then of course I will want to go to some trouble and show off my mediocre baking skills.

About to go into a cleaning frenzy in the house, followed by balloon buying, alcohol, bread and for some strange reason - hair tongs!  I am completely realistic about the fact that people will arrive at 1:59pm, and I will have only one eye with mascara on it, Jonty will be nappy-less, the boys will have embarked on some pirate adventure during which they need absolutely every toy in the house and The Accountant will dash past the door whispering "I'll just duck into the shower quickly......"

My gorgeous little boy does not realise all this commotion that is about to happen is for him.  But he will have a jolly good time ripping that paper off the presents and having his first taste of fairy bread.