7th Birthday – Bigger Boy turns 7!
7th Birthday – I wanted a break from hosting my older son’s 7th birthday this year. No racing around the house like a loon de-cobwebbing corners, skirting board wiping or scrubbing every square inch in anticipation/fear of other mums judging me on the cleanliness of my toilet. So in a moment of uncharacteristic organization I had booked a bowling party for Bigger Boy’s 7th birthday – way back in January. There I would relax in their cafe area with a cup of tea, maybe even take a few photos, but nothing more, while they would take care of the entertainment, the food and even the cake – bliss!
But come his actual 7th birthday – which fell on the Wednesday, I relented and made him the chocolate cake he requested. I also made a pizza dough and cobbled together a few toppings, so he and a couple of school friends he invited over could have a fun tea. We were then joined by a few more friends and there children, added to which a couple of relatives and pretty soon it felt like the familiar chaos of a birthday party at home. Between serving everyone and answering random requests such as ‘Do you have any non-alcoholic beer?’ from an adult and ‘Can you give me a piggy back over to the trampoline?’ from a child, I was run ragged. By the time everyone had left, every plate and piece of cutlery had been used and the house looked like it could do with a professional clean. When I eventually flopped exhausted onto the settee at half past ten at night with a large glass of wine I couldn’t help wondering what purpose the planned bowling party at the weekend was going to serve.
I rang them up on the off chance that I could cancel it, but at such short notice I wouldn’t have got my money back. So Bigger Boy was very spoilt this year, much to his younger brother’s green envy.
It wasn’t all doom and gloom though, as at the end of his 7th birthday I spent a few moments with Bigger Boy and reminisced about what was happening this time 7 years earlier. I reminded him how I spent an unforgettable 17 hours attempting to push him into the world, but at 10.2 ounces he was too big a boy and it all ended in an emergency caesarian. I said how when I first saw him he was making a grimacing expression that I have come to recognize as his very own, when he doesn’t get his own way, ‘Well mum’, he argued, ‘I didn’t want to come out.’
After the bowling party I asked him what he’d prefer next year, a big party or the money to spend? And the wise boy that he has grown into, firmly replied, ‘The money mummy. Definitely the money.’ See, it might of taken 7 years, but we have finally managed to teach him something by his 7th birthday!