- So Owl wrote…and this is what he wrote:
- HIPY PAPY BTHETHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY
- Pooh looked on admiringly.
- “I’m just saying ‘A Happy Birthday’,” said Owl carelessly.
- “It’s a nice long one,” said Pooh, very much impressed by it.
Yesterday Emma and I arrived home after our usual morning errands. We stopped at the intercom system and there it was. A notice for people to press house number 258 for Tshego’s party. What! A party happening in our street. Thank goodness Emma was asleep. She would have been as crushed as I was realizing there was a birthday party and we, I mean she, hadn’t been invited. The balloons alongside the note were no longer an indication of a P.A.R.T.Y but rather an awful reminder that a celebration was going to be taking place and we wouldn’t be present.
You see Emma and I love love love birthday parties. We share a love of pretty cupcakes and party packs. Emma loves jumping castles. Ones with sharp teeth, ones with bouncy balls, princess ones, obstacle course ones – Emma goes to sleep talking about jumping castles and wakes up talking about them. Emma loves the socializing that takes place at celebratory get-togethers. If there’s an opportunity to make a new friend or two, Emma is there. Oh and singing ‘Happy Birthday’…Emma takes over. She’s even been known to blow out the candles on behalf of the birthday girl or boy.
Me, well, I don’t sing and I don’t often socialize at these events. The fact of the matter is I wasn’t invited. I’m simply Emma’s transport to and from these grand occasions. I’m also there to maybe change a nappy or clean her hands after she’s devoured scrumptious cakes and treats.
I think for September alone we, I mean Emma, has a party every weekend. Some weekends have two and yes, we will go to every one of them. For two reasons. Emma enjoys them and for me attending a birthday party for one of my little girl’s friends is a both a privilege and an honour. Two and a half years ago I wouldn’t have had the opportunity. Oh sure, I would have been invited as the bitter and barren friend, aunt or work colleague who would sit in the corner, close to tears, thinking about my childless lot in life. Friends would think twice about inviting me to baby showers and some were even too nervous to share the pregnancies with me, in case of an emotional outburst.
Now as a bona fide mommy Emma and I get to read the invitation together. We get to choose what gift we’ll be buying and what outfit Emma will wear. Finally I get to attend kiddies parties not by default but because I am a mommy.