The day before my middle child’s birthday was a busy one. 

All of the preparations that go into normal life milestones unfolded in quick succession.

First, we waved our goodbyes to friends who’d been staying with us, envious of their week venture into the Rockies in Bob, the RV. 

 A trip that we most likely will never take, if we sell Bob as planned. As much as I love that truck, the reality that bites does so with a sting.  

It’s not practical for us to keep it at this stage with everything else in our lives. And we likely won’t use it for at least another 5 years. 

The kids are too young to go to the places I want to take them, and I know myself well enough to know that if I took them now I would hate it. I would worry the entire time, and they would be bored, and it would be so loud and painful for everyone.

But oh, as they left I was green. Happy for them, but blue for me. So more of an aqua, I guess.

Once I managed to calm my inner childless selfish person, I tidied for the party that would happen in less than three hours. 

I allowed myself one hour of editing, feeling as though I’m writing to a deadline which is not actually the case, but makes for more productiveness on my part.

Then the last minute buying of the non-food party food. Pizza and hot dogs, chips and cake.

Of course, we had to actually force the kids to sit down to graze, but fun was certainly had by all. 

The easiest way to throw a birthday party, which I have found out completely by accident is this;

  Invite the entire class, but don’t put the child’s name on the invite that the party is for. And also, don’t hand them out until the Wednesday before the party on the weekend.  

It wasn’t intentional, but worked brilliantly.  

Only three other children showed up. This meant I had thirteen children running around, but also six adults this time.  

I walked away with my sanity and consider this a huge success.

We have many left over hot dogs in the fridge, and I’ve already had three pieces of cake and may take another gravol before bed, but we survived birthday number 5 for my Princess Samantha.