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How to throw a tropical beach party

*whimpers*

As I write this blog, I am gazing about like a blinking owl. My left leg hurts and Oliver is still in bed (at two O’clock in the afternoon). The kitchen still looks like a hurricane of food has blown through it and the back garden…the less I say about that the better. I think we can safely say that the party was a ROARING SUCCESS.

I woke up horrifically early yesterday morning with a jolt. The night before had been spent cooking batches of cupcakes and I had completely forgotten to wrap Olly’s presents and so, I started the day in a frenzied search for some sellotape (which by the way, should be featured in Harry Potter books as an example of an amazing disappearing substance. It doesn’t matter how much of it I buy, I can never bloody find ANY OF IT when I need to) which I couldn’t locate and so ended up wrapping his gifts which craft glue. A great start to the day, I’m sure you agree.

The morning was spent icing cupcakes and cornets filled with sweets and decorating the shed/playhouse.

*cracks whip*

The beach hut (Yes, I STILL know it's a shed)

It's like we're in Hawaii

As I had decided that the food was going to comprise of burgers, hotdogs and sausages in buns the food preparation was at a minimum. This left me time to decorate the front garden and to force Tom into blowing up an inflatable banana the size of a lilo.

They look as deflated as each other.

Time then warped and suddenly people were arriving. Family members dropped by to give cards and presents to the birthday boy in advance of the party, the entertainer arrived and then the guests started flooding in. I realised that I had no idea how many people were going to descend as I hadn’t received many RSVPs (Quick note here – please respond to invitations, it makes life so much easier for the person throwing the party) and was greatly relived that more than 3 children turned up.

The entertainer was just…brilliant. 11 is a difficult age. The disparity between the more knowing and mature girls, and the boys (who spent at least half an hour wrestling and throwing plums from the tree at each other) who are in the main, still children, means that there is awkward balance to strike. Michelle (for that was her name) managed this beautifully and the kids all got really involved in the karaoke and competitions.

Every child in the universe knows the moves to cha cha slide (or whatever it's called)

God knows what song this was. It sounded like a bunch of noise to me *my mother*

So while the kids were doing the limbo, screeching Justin Bieber songs and throwing plums at each other generally having a good time, I got on with the food.

Deciding on providing hot food was just plain stupid. Why I thought that this would lessen the load on the day is now, with hindsight, completely beyond me. Am I actually mental?

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

The spread

The entertainer had to leave (BOO!) and there was still an hour to go before the party ended.

There was only one option left open to me…

Lock them in the shed...

This worked really well until they escaped and run amok with water pistols

They're out of control!

This was actually my favourite part of the whole day. To see these kids – some of whom have been coming to our parties since they were 5 – running and laughing and being children again was just…amazing and surprisingly touching.

And so, the time for it all to end was upon us.

Oliver blew out his candles…

Blowing out the candles

The children left, each and every one thanking me for a good time.

Po emerged from his hiding place…

You can come out now elderly cat

And I put my feet up, drank a glass or two of wine and fell into my bed in a messy mess.

This morning, Olly got a text from one of his friends that simply said:

“Your [sic] party was epic”

Beach Party Invitations or Oh Dear Lord the madness is upon me…

So. Oliver turns 11 in August, and he moves onto secondary school in September.

All of the parties that I have thrown for him and his primary school friends have been building towards THIS PARTY. (You can read about my angst here)

We’re going on a family holiday at the end of July, so I need to be really on top of my game to get the invitations out and get everything arranged. Bearing this in mind, I called a party entertainer today. I’ve decided that I want to enjoy this party, and the best way to do this is to get someone else to do it help. Somewhat embarrassingly, when the lovely lady asked me about the details of the party – I burst into wracking sobs. *shocked face*

Me: “It’s hu huuh hh..is eleventh birthday *WAIL* and this is th the the LAST PARTYYYY! *sniff*”

Lady: “…..”

Me: “Sorry”

I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns up on the day with a knife tucked into her socks in order to deal with me.

Moving on…

Today was also the day that I went to HobbyCraft and spent a stupid amount of money on crafty crap.

See that pen? I have many, many pens, but when you walk into HobbyCraft they squirt you with an odourless, invisible gas that turns you into a CraftZombie. One minute you’re a normal person who watches DVD’s and The Apprentice in their free time, the next moment you find yourself gazing vacantly at a cardboard mask while gently stroking a pack of feathers. I should never go in HobbyCraft. It makes me want to do knitting, crocheting, painting, jigsaws, jewellery making and..most disturbing of all, SEQUIN ART. FFS.

I also bought some sandpaper. Not from HobbyCraft, but from ASDA – Only a quid! Bargain  (also I got three bottles of wine for a tenner *double thumbs up*)

So I started on the invitations..

Not bad, for the first draft

 

That’s a little square of sandpaper there in the middle. The card opens up and all the information about the party is on the inside. I’ve gone with a “Beach Hut” thing (Beach Hut = Shed/Playhouse)

Invite

The Beach hut at <address>

will open on <date of party> at <start time> until <end time>

Dress Code – Something summery!

RSVP details

SURF’S UP!

—————————————————————————————————————————————

There’s something missing though…As I looked through the bags of little sticky on-ny beach stuff I had bought, I realised that it’s just not colourful enough. And so…the madness begins.

On my last trip to HobbyCraft I bought a bunch of FIMO, ostensibly for Oliver, but c’mon, let’s be honest – I became a CraftZombie. I made these with it:

Don't ask...

If you don’t know what FIMO is, (and, why would you? Unless you’ve been in HobbyCraft, in which case you’ve probably got your own embarrassing collection of models) then have a click. FIMO is basically a modelling clay which you can harden in the oven.

I wonder if you can guess where I’m going with this?

Yes. I have forced my children into slave labour to help me make our own sticky on-ny things to stick on invitations. I feel shame.

He's still in his school uniform *sob*

*Doorslam*

But now we have…

Ah, aren't they wondrous?

You see?

MADNESS.

A 60th Birthday Party or How not to act in a quite nice hotel

Note how I cleverly flashed out the age

When my mum’s 60th year rolled around, we decided to throw a party. This time though, we weren’t going to cobble together a bunch of crappy decorations made out of computer printouts and vegetables. This time we were going to be classy.

So, we booked a function room in our local Marriot and arranged for our family to stay overnight.

Cake

I ordered a cake from a bakery (no LumpOCake for mum – Oh no..)

Fruit cake. Which, I'm sure we all agree, is the Devil's favourite cake, and therefore..EVIL

Isn’t it pretty? But don’t be fooled – underneath that immaculate icing and edible flower spray is fruit cake. Not only fruit cake, but also marzipan. It’s like seeing a lovely plate of steak and chips only to discover that the steak is made of ear wax and the chips are made from parsnips. (Parsnips being the worse option in this scenario – obviously)

Decorations

We decorated the function room as best as we could, which to be frank, wasn’t terrific. Why are function rooms in hotels so unremittingly depressing? What is it about them? Is it the ghosts of a thousand work christmas parties, each with it’s own inevitable puddle of regretful snogging? Or maybe it’s the slight whiff of despair which lingers after a hundred Motivational Sales Training Courses. Who knows?

Can you smell it?

The Party

We got dressed in our finest clothes. I was forced into some fairly heavy duty foundation garments, which resulted in an inability to breathe, bend over or dance with any sort of elegance (That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it) and the boys were looking sharp.

Don't we scrub up well? (Olly's eyes look weird - damn you red eye extractor)

Somehow we ended up with a female DJ. I have no idea how this happened as I’m sure they’re about as rare as decent meal in Frankie & Benny’s, but I was obviously striking a blow for gender equality. GO ME! She was fab and kept the party dancing. We ran a free bar, and I seemed to have really got into the “Free Bar” thing – clearly I forgot that I was paying for the “Free Bar” at the end of the night, but my brain seemed to filter out this vital piece of information and just heard “YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE MONEY AT THE BAR! DRINK SOMETHING REALLY EXPENSIVE! IT’S FREEEEEEE!!” which resulted in some peculiar combinations and some quite horrendous choices.

MALIBU? What kind of sick mind would be....oh

The evening went well, everyone had a good time – Nana (of 50′s glass fame )had a boogie and everyone enjoyed the bar.

3 generations of awkward looking women

The flash makes this look as though we were dancing under much fluorescent tube lighting

Many empty bottles of many different drinks

So. Finally the DJ packed up her equipment and people started heading home. I decided at this point that there was only one way to get back to my room.

HOME JEEVES!

I’m at a bit of a loss how to end this post. I guess I could say something trite about “Good Time Had By All” or maybe something like “Wordy word word word” but instead, I think I will ask you to have a look at the new and AMAZING twitter and Facebook buttons. You can now comment from your twitter account or Facebook and I would LOVE to hear from you if you like the blog – if you hate it? Then I’m not so keen – KEEP YOUR BLOODY OPINIONS TO YOURSELF. *winky emoticon* ..No. I actually mean it. *serious face*

The End

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