Like Christmas, luckily my girls’ birthdays only come once a year. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they fall so close together that it does actually become like a summer version of Christmas. They frequently share a celebration (one year it was sumo wrestlers and an ice cream bar, water chutes and a balloon man in the garden – that was when the sun used to shine in July, obviously) and have a separate one each as well, plus lots of visits and treats with friends and family, whipping up a social whirl that rarely takes up less than 10 days solid. Add to that the fact they are both end of July birthdays, so falling at the very end of term, and you can see why it might become a little, how shall I put this, hectic.
So. Tonight is Felice’s last night as a ’small girl’ because tomorrow at 4.02am she turns 11 and officially becomes a pre-teen. Her presents are an interesting mix of jewellery and clothes, making and doing kits and packs, shoes, funky tights and neon socks, music and, can you believe it, a huge chunk of Port Salut from her Dad (not her only present from him, I hasten to add, she was taken shopping a few days ago and nicely spoilt) which was something she wanted, et voila it is now sitting in the fridge, still wrapped in birthday paper. Sweet. And strangely grown up, it’s the sort of thing I’d get for her grandfather!!
The finest chocolate cake is in the fridge as well, the candles sorted, ready for breakfast feasting over “Happy Birthday to You” and all her presents are waiting on the chair with a few of Cecily’s (they always open a few of their own on each other’s birthdays, be rude not to!).
She was so excited tonight that she could barely bear to go to bed, but heck, I still get like that about my birthday and I’m really not keeping count anymore, so be a worry if she wasn’t all keyed up! And the day after it’s her leaver’s assembly and that’ll be that, holidays here we come.
Must be summer then, despite the gloomy weather (((sigh))).
Wish whoever has kidnapped the summer would bring it back, and given this is the third bad one in a row I have had no hesitation in joining the Prince of Wale cause to save the rainforests, despite Vivienne’s best efforts to put us off with her witterings (as opposed to tweeterings) about recycling fashion on Wossy’s show – what’s the deal with not washing your clothes, Viv? Bet you still do!
So have you signed up yet? If not, here you go (and no, it’s not just because they have Daniel Craig on there, though he was certainly a pleasant and welcome surprise when I landed and I confess to sneaking back for the odd fix now and again…).
Anyway, I really don’t think you can’t afford not sign up, else we are all going to start getting SAD syndrome in the middle of summer and be forced to emigrate, and despite Britain’s problems at the moment I do think that would be a shame…lol…or, on a much more serious note, be blamed for ever more by our rightly cross offspring who currently have no voice or influence and will be left to carry the can and try and cope with the consequences. Not right that, is it?
I mean, we spend so much time watching what we eat in pregnancy, trying to control how we give birth, trying to feed them properly, stop them falling and hurting themselves or getting hurt or lost or damaged – even paying for them to get a leg up educationally if we are so inclined – that it seems utter madness to me that any parent can still simply shrug and ignore climate change and rainforest deforestation.
Madness. Sheer madness. Like handing your child a poisoned chalice and saying, here sweetie, there you go, Mummy says drink. it. all. up.
So go do it now. Every voice counts.
Filed under: Children, Family, birthdays, parenting, rainforest sos, weather | Leave a Comment »





