We're going to party like it's 8 years before you were born.

We had a great time. We are quite good at celebrating, I think. There were moments where I felt like I could happily kill some people, and vowed never to have a kids party in my home again, but on the whole, I'd say we all enjoyed ourselves massively, guests included. After a late nights prep where I kind of panicked about not knowing just how many people would be coming and ended up making enough cupcakes to feed the whole building, I was awoken at 5 (how apt) by the birthday girl. Lucky me to get to share in her excitement when I hadn't gone to bed until after midnight.

We'd been decorating, clearing, prepping, tidying, and all the other things you need to do. I gave a very relaxed Stevie a bag of balloons to blow up. My theory is that kids of Orla and Hamish's age are happy as long as there are balloons and music. So I went mad on the balloons too. We nearly blacked out simultaneously trying to get them all blown up. It was fun. We veered from lightheadedness into near unconsciousness many, many times until Stevie begged me to find my balloon pump. 

I left him to finish up while I got on with the finishing touches... Little did I know he had left the balloon pump lying out so when I got ready to get my modelling balloons ready the next morning, it turned out Orla had managed to break it. I could have cried. Well, not really, I was a bit annoyed at not being able to do it, but not so much that I wanted to go out and find a new pump. Hell, I was up to my eyeballs preparing the unhealthiest food kids could ever desire. 

Actually, in the 5 hours sleep I got I had a nightmare about the children having huge allergic reactions to the cake glitter. It's edible, and it looks amazing, but they do recommend that you *don't eat it*. I ignored that advice, valuing aesthetics over possible seizures, and then spent my sleeping hours in torment. 

And my little princess & my little pirate (who couldn't understand why I was making him wear his pyjama bottoms) were packed with excitement like little tightly coiled springs waiting for the party to start. Everyone arrived at once, bang on 2pm, someone gave me 30 seconds warning of their child's *severe* nut allergy  - I did mention the cake glitter *may* be made with peanut oil...but they decided to take their chances in exchange for sparkly prettiness. And no kids died or ended up in hospital, so that was good!

So we danced, played games, gave out prizes for being good, and some for those who were utterly crap, ate, sung, laughed, broke up arguments, and ran around like nutcases. What more do you want from a party, well except copious amounts of alcohol? That would have been nice.

By quarter to 4 they were creating an awesome amount of noise, and we left them to play in Orla's room. The girls mostly took to the tent and camped out, while the boys jumped, and argued, and bounced, and ran around some more. And then bang on 4pm all the parents appeared as if by magic and whisked their buzzing little kids away, and just like that, it was over.

Let the celebrations commence!

5 is a magical age. To say it's been longed for is an understatement. And so, the celebrations have begun. Up at 6:30am, a frantic ripping off of paper, a quick, reluctant breakfast, dressed for school, and off! Then back home and time to play, rollerskate, fall, fall again, fall some more and nearly twist ankle, Skype the grandparents, and dinner, cake, and bed.

Is it just me, or does she suddenly look a year older? I think she does and she thinks this is marvellous, but if it happens to me too on my birthday next month I won't be happy.

Other people's birthdays take their toll on some people. It's hard when everyone else seems to have their birthday 'first'. Especially when you suspect that your sister has managed to sneak in two birthdays since your last one. It's enough to make you take to your (mother's) bed for a little sulk. - Not that he didn't fair well out of it. He is the owner of a terrifying pair of rollerskates too (remind me to ask my doctor to up my blood pressure medication).

But he did help make Orla's second birthday cake. Oh how I long for Tesco. I made a cake for her to take to school two nights ago, then another for her actual birthday for candle blowing out purposes, ad today I start making cakes for her birthday party tomorrow. I think I may have burnt the *actual* birthday cake because I was daydreaming about just handing over my cash to Tesco for something that takes much less effort and looks more professional.

And so, with that reminder, I must get on. There are rooms to be cleared, shopping to be done, balloons to be modelled, cakes to be made and decorated, brand new pirate outfits to be washed ALREADY, and apartments to be cleaned and decorated before tomorrow's big party. (And I might eat the rest of those Smarties)

Not yet available for parties...

Yarr me heartie, that's a fine looking sword you've got there!

Shiver me timbers! What a cutlass! 

Um...petals of  eight, or something.

Seriously, what's a blog for if not for showcasing the reason why you are not a professional balloon modeller/ seamstress/ patisserie chef?

Orla's birthday is mere weeks around the corner, and we decided not to go with the original idea of a picnic at the zoo, given that it might be still a little cold, and decided instead to have a party in the apartment. Orla of course wants everyone in her class to come, and while we have the space, I figure it's the least I can do to let her have everyone. Plus, Hamish will love having all the boys to run around squealing with.

The parties that Orla has been to this year so far have been pretty amazing. There's been a beauty parlour party with sleepover (though as she's never 'slept-over' anywhere really, we didn't bother with that part), and the last party a couple of weeks ago was held in the Excelsior Hotel in Berlin. Very impressive! I am half-expecting the next one to be black tie. It seems common practice to hire at least 3 entertainers, and while I don't feel like I need to compete, my inner 'hey-I-could-easily-do-that' has emerged and I am going to try my hand at a few things myself.

For starters, I am now the proud owner of 100 modelling balloons. Stevie came home from work last week to find the apartment still (10 hours later) in need of a good hoovering and tidy up. But instead of asking his usual question "What do you do all day???", he could see as the place was strewn with slightly phallic-looking balloonery and he managed to restrain himself to commenting "Another tough day, I see". Damn straight. Watching YouTube tutorials all afternoon really takes it out of you.

My first efforts have been pretty basic and not exactly perfect, but I figure I have the best part of a month to hone my skills. While I started out thinking "How hard can this be?", I quickly worked out it's a bit harder than I imagined. For starters I can't keep up with the balloon guys on YouTube: they could make 18 cutlasses in the time it takes me to do 1, and I am putting too much air into my balloons because I literally had my eyes squeezed shut when I was attempting to fold a balloon 4 times and then twist it into flower petals. Just didn't happen. Or maybe it did for a millisecond before it exploded. I'm not sure cause I had my eyes shut and was screaming at that point.

But I will not be defeated! A bit more practice and I bet I will master the correct way to get the balloons blown up, and I'll speed up the modelling. I like the idea of being able to do this. I'd like to be the kind of person who could rustle up a doggy balloon while chatting nonchalantly with a friend. That's the kind of show-off I am, ha, ha!