So, me, MIA again… Yeah.
However, this time it’s for one of the most joyful, wonderful and magical of reasons.
Last week I was in the midst of party preparations.
The 4th birthday party that started out as a sausage sizzle at the pool and morphed into a soda shop party complete with whipped cream, and cherries and sprinkles on top.
I’d like to blame the rain for the venue and party change. And let’s face it, rain would have fizzled our pool party sausage sizzle in the extreme.
But the truth is, the rain was just the catalyst for one of my many alter-egos to emerge.
I like to call her: Partyzilla.
She rears her dangerous (and somewhat expensive) head whenever there is a family function or party that I am given any kind of part in.
Much to Pal’s chagrin.
In fact, every year he insists, and I promise, that the party I promised him last year I wouldn’t have, will only be simple and small.
And every year, simple and small is my intention.
But Partyzilla didn’t make these promises, reasonable and moderately sensible Daisy did. And that Partyzilla, she pounds Reasonable and Moderately Sensible Daisy into dust the moment she gets her inspiration.
This year it started with a search for plastic spoons on the Internet. I wanted to make one party treat other than the cakes (the obligatory birthday cake and dairy free cupcakes for the Two). And months ago I’d found these.
And Chocolate Dessert Party Spoons require the perfect colored and sized spoon.
And finding that perfect spoon took me on a journey that started with a packet of plastic cutlery and ended atop a mountain of the prettiest, loveliest party gear I have ever had the pleasure of purchasing.
Partyzilla and eBay, together forever.
In my defense, the party was small. Just Roo’s most favourite of her little friends. Our little gang of regular play dates.
Which resulted in only 8 children able to attend, apart from my own, after My Bestie Amelia cancelled her family’s attendance. Due to the rain and the driving on wet country roads at night.
Which is best avoided at the best of times.
But especially when one’s minivan is being held together by duct tape while it awaits its date with the mechanic.
Roo’s birthday arrived, bright and early on Friday morning. Fun was had, gifts were given. Cake was eaten.
And then Saturday, or Party Day as Roo took to calling it, rolled around. And thanks to some major flops in the kitchen the night before, cakes needed to be (re)made and food prepared.
In all my cleaning time. You know, the party clean? The one where you don’t have to be concerned if everyone’s children need to go to the toilet a million times. And the one that you know once the party is over, a quick tidy and mop will suffice?
Yeah, I had no time for that clean.
So my Mum, my sister and a good friend (and party guest!) came round and swept, vacuumed and tidied.
And then my sister – obviously under the impression that the Queen’s arrival was imminent, and not the three mums (one of whom was currently vacuuming the playroom) who’ve seen my house at both it’s best and worst – began scrubbing my walls and window sills.
I started to say: “You know, that’s not really necessary. And you are ruining the art gallery my hallway has become.”
But then I shut up and let her scrub. Because good sisters let their little sisters scrub to their heart’s content.
And because I’m sure my hallway-come-art-gallery will receive some new items in time.
And then, walls scrubbed, cakes (re)made, table set – thanks again to my little sister and friend – and wall hangings hung, it was party time.
And the birthday girl was rather inconveniently still asleep, and her father was rather inconveniently not home from work.
So I did the unthinkable.
I woke a sleeping child.
I was forgiven when she saw her party set up and her guests waiting. Her excited little face sent Partyzilla back to her cave, happily sated.
And a lovely party was had by all.
Except Oscar, who Hulked out and threw a glass jar over his head and onto the concreted verandah.
But that’s a story for another day.