Mummy Birthdays That Fall During Late-May Half Term Deconstructed: Peppa Pig, Outings to Sainsbury’s, Shoplifting and all

Today is my birthday, and in the spirit of my blog post from my birthday last year (2018), I am continuing the tradition of telling the warts-and-all truth about celebrating birthdays as a parent. I follow the general parenting philosophy of it’s *usually* better to see the funny side of things, so here’s how my day went:

07.30 Manhandled out of bed by 6yo

07.35 Wait patiently for any one of my three kiddies to say ‘Happy Birthday Mummy’ and hand me my presents. No one exhibits any interest in Birthday Mummy; Peppa Pig on Daddy (Pig)’s computer has more of a pull apparently.

07.45 Give up waiting patiently. Demand they hand over “surprise” presents I know they’ve bought with Daddy Pig yesterday. Open them with relish. Am given:

a) An ‘Egg House’ (if, like me, you do not know what an egg house is, see photo above)

b) A small cactus in a small mug picturing a small depressed cat (see second photo above)

You can’t fault my children for their originality.

c) Also given home-made cards with various birthday wishes and instructions written on them, e.g. “Mummy may not be bossy on her birthday”.

07.50-12.30 – Breakfast, more breakfast, playing, making Birthday Mummy contort herself working out how to erect a play tent, making a mess, tidying up the mess, let’s get dressed, come and get dressed, I’ll (even) get you dressed, just come here now, Mummy I’m thirsty, Mummy I’m hungry, I want to go out, it’s my birthday, come on let’s get dressed.

12.30 Mummy let’s have lunch before we go out. OK children, come eat this delicious nutritious soup I prepared yesterday. Mummy, I NEED croutons in my soup. OK let’s go to Sainsbury’s.

12.45 Birthday outing number #1: Up and down the aisles of local Sainsbury’s we go. Urgent need presents itself to locate Kinder Eggs. They are found in Aisle #8. What was it we came to Sainsbury’s for again? Oh yes, soup croutons!  Many other non-crouton items have found their way into shopping basket too. Total bill: £23.48.

13.00 Everyone finally eats soup. (Well, two out of three children eat soup, one pronounces the fatal judgement: YUCK.)

13.15-14.00 Black hole zone. Getting ready to go out again. Blur, lots of noise, shoes, lost, jackets, found.

14.00 Right we’re leaving NOW. I don’t care where, we need some fresh air NOWWWWWWWWWWWW.

14.05 Birthday outing #2: Step outside front door. Ominous grey clouds loom over London. IT STARTS TO RAIN at this EXACT PRECISE SPLIT SECOND. You couldn’t have planned it better.

14.15 Find ourselves sheltering in local tube station shivering, waiting for errant Grandmum (Birthday Mummy’s mummy), who’s driven up from out of town, to appear.

15.00 Jump on bus and meet errant Grandmum in rather characterless but somehow appealing shopping centre-cum-entertainment hub down road (at least we’re not getting wet). Grandmum finds us in stationery aisle of Sainsbury’s #2 fiercely negotiating over which packets of felt pens, notepads, pencil cases can be purchased for small people. Small people desire many more items of stationery than big people wish to buy for them.

15.30 Mummy warmly encourages Grandmum to take two older kiddies around shopping centre, so she can flee to café with sleeping toddler in buggy and have quiet hot chocolate. Convinced toddler will awaken just as she settles down with a sigh at table, she gingerly takes first sip of warm sugary drink.

Birthday miracle #1 : Toddler sleeps on.

16.00 6yo calls Mummy on Grandmum’s phone and talks loudly and persuasively (aka ‘shouts’) down phone about his need for a book which costs £20 in bookshop in which he, 4yo sister and Grandma are currently located. Mummy says no.

16.15 Toddler awakens in fiery mood. Swiftly placated with promise of a turn on Peppa Pig ride. Dash to Sainsbury’s to get £1 coins for said ride. 4yo clambers dangerously on top of ride where no child should venture, bashes herself and starts howling.

16.30 Everyone happy again as ride turns around and around, with “Peppa Pig! Peppa Pig! Peppa PIG!!!” crooning in background.

17.00 Everyone’s getting hungry again. Make to leave shopping centre but then 6yo announces he has put £20 disallowed book in basket under buggy. We now have shoplifting scenario. Grandmum firmly walks 6y0 and stolen reading material back to bookshop.

17.10 Finally all squeeze into Grandmum’s too small but very cute mint-green convertible Fiat 500. Mummy and three children sit squashed but relatively happy in back seat (Buggy, not Birthday Mummy, gets to sit in front passenger seat, as Naughty Buggy refuses to fit in tiny Fiat 500 boot) for quite a protracted period of time as Grandmum goes errant again in search of lost mobile phone in large shopping centre. After some time, she returns with new tale of woe: Parking ticket machine has swallowed up her parking ticket.

17.30 Nice lady in kiosk helps Grandmum exit car park with new parking ticket.

18.00 Finally arrive at restaurant for birthday supper.

19.15 Squeeze back into teeny cute iconic Italian vehicle. It’s still grey and gently raining, but this in no way dissuades three over-tired children from clamouring excitedly for Grandmum to open convertible roof. We cruise home with rain gently spitting down on us but enjoying every minute of the ride.

19.45 Daddy Pig (who’s breezily come home from work) comes up trumps and produces some small cute cupcakes which he readies with birthday candles in the kitchen with children. Birthday Mummy comes proudly in, and we all wait for Alexa to start singing Happy Birthday so we can join in. Alexa plays Rock Ballad #3472 by Grace Pollack version Hudson from 1986 and not Happy Birthday. We tell Alexa to shut up and sing Happy Birthday all by ourselves instead. Birthday Mummy enjoys blowing out her candles.

20.30 Children finally go to bed. 6yo says to Mummy, while cuddling her most tenderly: “Mummy I’ve had the best Mummy birthday ever today.”

21.00 Birthday Mummy and Grandmum crash out on couch. Find ourselves singing raucously along to Eighties pop videos on YouTube. Birthday ends with rousing rendition of “It’s the Final Countdown! Dada daa daa, da da da da da, dada daa da daa, dadadadadadadaaa da da da da da da da da daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

It’s my son’s party and I’ll cry if I want to

To continue from my last blog post theme of me being loud and dramatic on birthdays , here’s my latest offering published on The Motherload, a fab, down-to-earth parenting blogzine, all about how an embarrassing crying incident at my son’s birthday party launched my *complicated* relationship with children’s birthday parties. Enjoy the read (click on the following link):

It’s my son’s birthday and I’ll cry if I want to

 

 

It’s my birthday and I’ll shout if I want to

How did my birthday degenerate in such spectacular style, I thought to myself at around 4.30 pm this afternoon.

Two of my three little ones were howling in unison – 1.5-year-old was following me around the flat, roaring and practically pulling my skirt off in her urgency to get me to pick her up which I couldn’t do because a) I didn’t want to and b) I was trying to gather up water bottles-nappies-wipes-shoes-socks-coats-more stuff so we could leave the house to go out for an early supper for my birthday (my birthday treat to myself).

3.5 year old was howling histrionically as I had apparently dropped a shoe on her tender little hoof and it hurt – A LOT.

This is not how birthdays are meant to be celebrated, I observed ruefully to myself.

I then did exactly what all the parenting bibles tell you not to do. I started shouting – quite loudly – at both of these two little people – to STOP SHOUTING.

I SHOUTED AT THEM TO STOP SHOUTING and it felt quite cathartic, so I CARRIED ON SHOUTING A LITTLE MORE.

Baby seemed quite startled at this show of noisy force coming at her from my direction, and this temporarily  stopped her howls.

I shouted SORRY VERY LOUDLY at 3.5 year old about the foot incident and shouted again NOW YOU HAVE TO STOP SHOUTING COS I SAID SORRY.

I then carried on grabbing random stuff, while shouting in a maternal guilt-tripping way that they are too young to understand that they were RUINING MY BIRTHDAY . I may even have stamped my foot (yes I am turning 5 today).

Finally ready to leave the flat. Trip trap trip trap down the stairs to the ground floor. Drag the buggy out of the hallway and outside.

And then finally, breathe in some fresh air and we were all in transit, either in buggy or on two feet, heading towards the restaurant with the tantalising image of chips with ketchup by the bucketful awaiting us.

And peace was restored.