A friend recently said to me, “A child’s first birthday party is really for the parents”.
Just add the words “… to get drunk” at the end and you pretty much have my philosophy.
So it was on Saturday that we celebrated Mr Squish getting his first run on the board* by having a picnic at our local park. Friends and family gathered and we ate, drank and fussed over the birthday boy.
We had champagne. I know this well because I had about 4 glasses of the stuff in quick succession. This is always well advised in the heat of the midday sun. Good job, me!
I first suspected I might be on the wrong side of sober when I pointed to an innocent man walking his dog in the distance and accidentally shouted, “IS THAT MAN NOT WEARING PANTS?”.
The entire gathering turned to look at the man who clearly was wearing pants, then looked back to me. They all wore an identical facial expression that simply said “What?!”.
I stopped drinking at that point.
In my defense, I was pretty excited. It had been a big year for me (for ANY parent, of course). Personally, my first year on the ‘job’ was a cavalcade of emotions. There was joy, crushing depression, contentment, panic, humour, frustration, happiness, self-doubt, pride, insufferable worry, and knock-me-off-my-feet love.
And if surviving that mental roller coaster doesn’t deserve a drink (or six), I don’t know what does.
But, even given some of the tough moments, I wouldn’t change the past year for quids. I have the most charming son a mother could hope for. He makes me endlessly happy and I simply adore him. He has changed my heart forever.
So happy birthday, my beautiful Mr Squish.
And, son, if you remember only one piece of advice from me, let it be this. Never walk through a park in deceptively skin-coloured shorts or else some poor, drunken woman will mistake you for being naked and embarrass herself at her son’s party.
Words to live by.
* See, husband! I can make correct cricket references. Now can you PLEASE just forget that after Siddle got a hat trick I proudly informed you, “I heard on the news that Cybill got a hat trick in the soccer! Good for her!”
Happy Birthday Mr. Squish!
I always wondered if one of the best reasons for having children was that the whole wonderful mess gave us a great excuse to tip a few.
Indeed!
“My son just vomited on my head”. As good-excuses-to-drink go, this is right up there.
Awww, happy birthday Mr Squish. xx