As you get older the whole concept of a birthday changes. As I lay pretending to be asleep in my bed this morning I could hear the excited whispers of little people covering the bed with cards and presents, negotiating who was going to present me with what. I opened my eyes to a plate full of pain au chocolat, a green tea on the bedside table and three happy little faces beaming at me, desperate for me to open my presents – which I duly did.
I realised that my birthdays have become as much about them as they are about me, probably more so. Watching the joy they get from me reading out their home made cards, guessing what the pictures are and unwrapping the presents they chose whilst glancing at their expectant faces, poised awaiting a smile to say that they ‘done good’.
Today wasn’t a special birthday, in that it wasn’t one of those ‘big’ ones. But it was a special day. Very normal in many ways, but filled with messages from friends and loved ones, lovely surprises and laughs. The children spent the day at a local playscheme and the highlight of the day was watching them ‘perform’ in a play. Sadly the 5yo tripped over and banged her chin just as it started, necessitating her hasty exit from the stage (along with the 3yo). That left the 8yo, who never gets a decent part in any play he’s ever been in. All change today though – I was the beaming mother stood on the pew taking pictures while he walked around the stage speaking his lines.
And then the piece de resistance. At home I was presented a book of poems written by my 8yo son. A mixture of genres, he started off with a couple of limericks (he’s very keen on a limerick):
There was a man from Australia
Who wanted to be a sailor
He got an F-minus
Witch wasn’t the finest,
And now he’s a complete failure
There was a girl called Mary
Who was entirely made out of dairy
People started to munch
Her up for lunch,
And now her dairy’s quite hairy
(I don’t really want to dwell on that one)
I can’t reveal all of the treasures, just in case he’s a famous poet one day and I get the chance to sell them for millions, but I have to share this one. There are many times when parenthood completely overwhelms me and I’m pretty sure that I’m getting it all wrong. This told me that maybe I’m not so bad after all: (all spelling is author’s own)
Get a clue and geuss who?
Kid look afterer