Jubilation

Funnily enough, I haven't heard of there being that many Jubilee parties at home in Scotland. In fact, of my friends in England that I have spoken to recently, I'm not sure that even one of them was doing *something* for the Jubilee beyond trying to avoid all the news coverage on tv.

And yet, here in Berlin, there has been quite a lot of Jubilee action. Patently abroad is where you need to be in order to muster up the enthusiasm for a party. We were invited to 4 Jubilee parties yesterday. Since we were invited to a staunch republican's party yonks ago, that was the one we went to.

Essentially, I think it was just a good excuse for a lot of us to get together, the kind of get-together that always seems too much of a faff to be bothered with at home. So it was good fun, and the kids (for it was all people from Orla's school) had a great time. We even had imported British weather just for the occasion, which was, um... lovely.

Stevie was feeling a bit tired though, and he's got a sore back, which might have something to do with us just having driven back from Bavaria. For oh yes, we spent the past few days down south visiting Legoland Deutschland & the Playmobil Funpark again. We got back on Saturday evening, and as I was baking for the party, that meant I got to spend last night getting Orla ready to go back to school today. Because of course you can guarantee that if you've been away for the best part of a week, come back and partied then of course it goes without saying that a fancy dress outfit will be required for the following day. Meet my vision of modern monarchy, Princess Orla:

Today they're having a Jubilee party at school and the kids were to come dressed up, ideally incorporating the theme of red, white, and blue. Because they love to make things easy o us parents. I struggled a bit with the royal theme. I would have loved to have dressed her as a corgi (too hard, & I thought (wrongly) too warm for this time of year), or as the Queen (as she is today, but where would I get one of those dress coats and matching hats and handbags in an age 5, and I'd still like to coordinate the look with a couple of corgi puppies on a lead - too hard and beyond my sewing abilities), and then I thought of dressing her up as the Queen as she looked when she was 5 years old, but when I Googled photos of her, she just looked like any other 5 year old in a fancy dress. So I just went for a nice easy solution: Princess Orla, a crown, a sash, and a robe.

I am never sewing with crushed velveteen again. It was quite hard. I could have done with an overlocker to edge it, and I gave up completely on adding an ermine (white fake fur with black marker pen) edge to it. The sash doesn't sit right because by the time I got on to it Orla had been asleep for early 4 hours, so I couldn't fit it on her properly. I also had to sew three ribbons together for that as I couldn't get anything Jubilee themed here. I do wonder whether when we go back to the UK I will continue to make outfits for the kids or whether I shall just go back to using good old Tesco.

Anyway, in other Jubilation news: today we have been in Berlin for exactly 2 years! 

Lego: that's what little boys are made of.

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Wannsee: That's a lot further out than I thought. Especially when I don't follow the satnav correctly. Orla had a party to go to today. She's going to be one of these women who has to start getting ready at lunch time for a night out. I know this as she had me laying all her potential party clothes out on her bed at 7am this morning so she could properly consider what she wanted to wear. The party wasn't starting until 2pm. And even with all this outfit deliberating, she still seems to have inherited my 'last minute' gene, and ate her lunch naked. 

Hamish, struggles with the whole party scene. Only because he can't deal with not being invited. So, I said that he could choose something to do with me and the other person with nae social life in this house, and thus, I spent another 4 hours of my life wanting to kill myself in the Legoland Discovery Centre, Berlin. It's a bad day when I hear myself saying "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go swimming?" given my deep-seated hatred of swimming pools. It's not that Legoland isn't great, it is, and I would highly recommend a visit to anyone coming to Berlin with kids. But I feel like I have been there 1 billion times now. I only look forward to the 4D cinema because it means I can have a 10 minute nap behind the 3D specs while Clutch Powers sprays water in my face from time to time, reminding me not to snore.

Anyway, today I realised something as I sat trying to file my nails with a Technics block. Lego is the perfect gift for grown men. And Legoland is the perfect place to take your husband/boyfriend on a date. Let me present the evidence:

Exhibit 1: Daddy 'helps' build a car while son gets to watch.

Exhibit 2: Father builds car while toddler son is playing with the Duplo shaking tables.

Exhibit 3: White-capped man tries to concentrate while wife wonders aloud if Legoland can be cited as grounds for divorce.

Exhibit 4: Man sits frustratedly while boy makes a hash of it.

And it seems a lifelong love of Lego starts with a head first dive into a barrel of the stuff.

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)

Pirate eyepatch comes in handy...yarr!

"Aaaaarrrrggghhhhh!!! I can't see! I can't see!" I appear to have sustained an eye injury during a game of 'Round & round the garden, like a teddy bear..' Hamish was having a shot doing me, and on his "One step, two steps" bit he went a bit mad on the tickle and instead gouged my eyeball with some (probably filthy) fingernails. 3 hours later and it's still killing me.

For the boys

For the girls

Lucky then that I had the foresight to run up Orla's party bags last night (all 18 of them in only about an hour!). I'm only posting about this because I feel so chuffed with myself with making something that's prettier than a printed plastic party bag while also saving money. The fabric I bought in IKEA about a year ago and was planning on using for 'something' but aside from making a drawstring tights bag for Orla, I've not done much else.

So my preparations for Orla's Princess & Pirate party are coming along nicely. It is becoming the most 'homemade' party I think we've ever had. I quite like that actually. If I had a badge making kit, I'd be even happier. Next up I plan on making the invites...while wearing a pirate eyepatch on my right eye. Though I hope I am not rocking this look until the end of March. Seriously. It's killing me.

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!

How to tell your husband you don't want a party

We went to a house-warming party on Saturday night. It was a little strange. I think the 'hostess' hadn't wanted to have a party. Things that gave it away:

1. She was in a foul mood. To the point that when we got there and I was chatting with her I thought I must have really annoyed her the last time we met. But it wasn't just me. To her credit she managed to maintain her extreme sullen-ness for the entire party.
   
2. Her opening welcome: "I hate this house".
   
3. She gave us a house tour. We 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' over the size, the cellar, the balconies, etc, etc, despite the fact that each room looked like a bomb had hit it. (Not that I am exactly winning prizes for my tidiness, but if I am throwing a party I probably wouldn't have my guests stepping over my dirty knickers, old opened mail, food, etc)
   
4. It takes a lot for Orla to notice mess, but when we saw Orla after the tour she took my hand and said "Come with me, Mummy. Look: it's a tip!"
   
5. She went to bed first. Even the six month old baby that was there stayed up longer.

Roll on the summer barbeque season.