Sunday, 1 June 2008

My birthday

Is it wrong for a 36 year old woman (as at 9.15pm this evening) to get almost hysterical at the thought of a birthday gathering? Not hysterical as in "needs a good slap" but hysterical with excitement at the prospect of birthday cake and opening a multitude of cards? David thinks it's endearing, Mac finds the whole thing highly embarrassing. He's approaching that age where a goodbye kiss from me at nursery is enough to make him run screaming into the playground. Never mind, I enjoyed myself immensely. I wasn't sick, nor did I have a tantrum, but I did eat jelly and ice-cream with gusto and Charlie who was responsible for providing the confections.

I got lots of nice cards with lovely things written on and in them and a fair few long sought after, fantastic, original, amazing, thoughtful presents. David's present was one of the best however and required the support of my wonderful sister and stepson and close friend. "It's all arranged" David had said as I clutched onto the envelope and gaped. "Mac's staying at Bea's from nursery on Friday until Sunday evening and Matt and Lydia will be staying here with the dogs while you lap up luxury." I glanced at my mother in law who had a face like a bulldog sucking a wasp because she wasn't part of Team Give Joanna a Nice Weekend Away. She was also in a foul mood over the whole Lydia Pregnancy Situation but that's another story. Mac made much of the fact that he'd "given mummy lots of money to buy new clothes" and brushed his father's assistance with this under the carpet. "I went into the shop with you daddy to buy the vachers!" he insisted with a pout that he's inherited from me. "But why aren't you happy I'm going to be a nuncle Granny?" was his other outstanding contribution to the evening.

"Aaannnnddd....." David said in a teasing fashion as he pretended to stagger into the room under the weight of the cake and the 36 candles that my Auntie Ivy had made, "....I'm even missing the opening games of Euro 2008 just for you!"

This led to a fifteen minute debate by the boys in the room - David, Dad, Stephen, Matt, Jack Next Door, Darren, Uncle Jim, Frank, James the Gorgeous Cardiothoracic Surgeon With Audi and No Wedding Ring who came with Charlie and Simon - about how terrible and awful and shameful that England wasn't in the tournament. This set the girls in the room - me, Bea, Lydia, Janey, Auntie Ivy, Marjorie, Charlie, Eliza and Saskia - off into discussions about just who is the sexiest footballer in the tournament, y'know, in the absence of Mr Beckham. Amelia pursed her lips and tutted us all loudly, her daughter especially. Ginny ignored her.

"Why don't we have a stakesweep?" Darren suggested. "Or a sweepstake" Simon pointed out. This was greeted with even more enthusiasm than the vol-au-vents that Marjorie provided.

There was then a burst of activity as David searched for pen, paper and a big box. Followed by an even longer burst of brain activity as we all attempted to work out how many teams were in the competition in relation to the amount of people in the room. As you can imagine, five bottles of champagne down, this took a while. "Sixteen!" Saskia announced as she peered at the computer screen after finding this site. She was the only one on the Schloer because she was due on duty at 9pm. "So, we all pick a team out of the hat, stick two quid in the pot - to make it worthwhile - and the winner takes all!" Simon said as he shook the box to shuffle the teams.

"And if you don't want to do it?" Amelia asked as she stacked up the cake plates. "Oh come on mother, don't be a stuffed shirt!" Ginny was rummaging in her pockets "If you win you can donate the lot to charity". "And if you don't know the first thing about football? Other than the majority of footballers are uncouth yobs who think spitting should be an Olympic sport?" Bea enquired, despite clutching a two pound coin in the hand that wasn't holding a glass of champers.

Because there was more of us than there are teams, David drew Spain on behalf of Mac and Janey chose Poland for Scarlett. Bea got highly excited that she had drawn Italy and started talking earnestly about Milan "for shopping darling". Lydia selected Greece for The Bump which made Amelia's lips disappear disapprovingly. Needless to say, the killjoy that is my mother in law declared the whole thing "ludicrous" and proceeded out to the kitchen to "make a start on this mountain of washing up".

All in all, an enjoyable day. I'm currently sitting in bed, typing this on David's laptop with yet another glass of champagne on the bedside table. My wonderful husband is splashing around in the bath having promised me a "preview" of next weekend. "You do know that England are playing tonight don't you?" I queried as I flicked through the Sky TV guide earlier. "S'alright darling" he said as he headed bathwards, towel draped provocatively around his waist "We can have it on in the background".


Anonymous said...

Oooh Happy Birthday!

Your comment on my blog rings so true. I also recall getting kicked out of the after school ballet classes when I was about 7 because the prissy bitch of a teacher (who was mother to one of the young "beautiful" girls) said that I was too "big" or too tall (I was very tall for my age and thus always proportionately bigger than girls my own age).

I didn't particularly care because I wasn't that keen on ballet, but it just made me realise what bitches some women can be to others. (Perhaps I should have included this in my own blog but it was such a small incident I had almost forgotten about it until you mentioned dancing!).

Best birthday wishes,

Merry said...

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy BIRTHday dear Nunhead-mom-of-one
Happy Birthday to youuuuuuu

Whoops. Sorry about that high note at the end. Didn't mean to shatter that glass. Dahling, you look simply mahvelous! Don't look a day over 35.

Numbers shouldn't mean very much when it comes to age. I wanted to hug the poor astonished cashier who asked to see some ID when I purchased a bottle of wine the other day, but the truth is that you see a lot of women of a certain age who don't look their age. Kim Cattral (or however you spell her name -- the woman from Sex in the City?) look marvelous, and she is 51.

DulwichDivorcee said...

Happy Birthday NMO! And a heartfelt thank-you for the picture of David Beckham, an un-birthday present for us all ...x

Working mum said...

Happy Birthday! And MIL did the dishes!

aims said...

Sounds like a fun Happy Birthday. But do tell me what you mean when you wrote that you ate Charlie.

Nunhead Mum of One said...

Hi all

A (very)belated thank you for my birthday wishes!

Aims.....that came out wrong didn't it?!

Nunhead Mum of One said...

Hi all

A (very)belated thank you for my birthday wishes!

Aims.....that came out wrong didn't it?!

Nunhead Mum of One said...

Hi all

A (very)belated thank you for my birthday wishes!

Aims.....that came out wrong didn't it?!

All about me

My photo
Nunhead, London, United Kingdom
I'm a mum of one, wife of one and owner to several dogs, a variety of breeds and sizes. I live in the up and coming area (or so they say) of Nunhead and have mad neighbours, strange friends and certifiable relatives. I shop locally, although I do defect to Sainsburys once a week - shoot me now local shopkeepers.