This. Right here. Motherhood. Is what I have always wanted to do. Although there are days, in which I question, in fact, what the hell I am doing and I do have fears about what I will be doing when my babies are babies no more. For now, I am content to ride this wave of love, smiles and tears all the way to shore.
Watching my big three year old boy celebrate with his little friends and some of our family last weekend, I experienced the full gamut of emotions mentioned above.
We were lucky. Oh my goodness, we were lucky. The weather forecast was anything but promising. The clouds above testament to the forecast. And even as I shakily constructed not one, not two, not three, but FOUR text message updates to our party guests, on whether or not the party would go ahead. In the end, it did. (reading over that last sentence, I am struck with how incredibly nutty I sound... I'll revisit that one some other time).
The sun literally decided to shine, minutes before our 11am start time and blessed us with it's spectacular glow for the duration of Angus' party. I lost track of how many people said how lucky we were and this summer, with all it's erratic fury, we were in fact, lucky.
Lucky. That we had 12 beautiful, fun loving children running, screaming, playing in our gorgeous local park... not 10 seconds walk from our front door.
Lucky. That those 12 spirited kiddies (and parents) were outside in the breeze and sunshine... not crammed in to our 3.3 metre wide terrace home... yes, it would have been interesting finding a piece of floor space for everyone, let alone somewhere for all of them to sit.
Lucky. That I'd organised a delightful young lady from a company called Face Fiction to entertain and amuse the kidlets. She wowed them all with her incredible balloon sculpting skills, for a whole hour in the middle of the party. Heaven for the adults!
Lucky. That The Women's Weekly provide the BEST party cake ideas under the sun... so that even an amateur like myself can pull off a half decent looking kid's cake.
And lucky MOST of all, to have a little man named Angus for all of this to be in honour of. He had himself the happiest of birthdays. So did we.