The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Cooped up with the kids
There’s a birthday in MJ’s lockdown house this week, with the celebrations – and the cake – proving a hit.
We had a lockdown birthday here this week with middle kid turning 14. She’s thankfully not a tiny tot needing an explanation for lack of party or visitors – in fact she overtook me a long time ago and is now eye to eye with her dad. I’ve still not forgiven her for arriving five days overdue OR using those extra days to reach the eye-watering weight of 11lb 1ozs. Maybe by the time she turns 30, although probably not.
Never one to shy from a party, I constantly feel the need to compensate for the mister’s non-existent sense of celebration. A plan to turn our modest house into a mini Mardi Gras was hatched and implemented with nothing like military precision. Isn’t it super how kids ignore you when you ask them to do something – they’re like little husbands in training.
Decorations borrowed from work, a handy perk. Bunting dug out and untangled. Piñatas bought and stuffed. Balloons blown up and banners hung. Subtle is not a word I associate with rejoicing in the birth of any of my kids.
Our almost 6ft teenage offspring remained sound asleep in her room, allowing us to pin and tape decorations everywhere – her one attempt to leave was blocked by a surprisingly proficient biggest kid who informed her “not to dare come out” till we said so. We finally remembered she was still in there when a wee voice shouted “please can I at least go to the bathroom?” What a thing to have to ask on your birthday! Naturally we said no and announced that as she was born at 11.59am she wasn’t allowed to emerge till then. The reaction was not becoming of such a young mouth; she IS apparently her mother’s daughter after all.
Toilet break sanctioned, she was invited to join us for card and present opening. Closely observed by youngest kid, just in case there was something of interest to her. People were exceptionally kind. If she wasn’t already overwhelmed by ‘lockdown birthday’ generosity, biggest kid’s rendition of Stevie Wonder’s Happy Birthday almost tipped her over the edge. Rendition? More dancing along to the entire song, bopping birthday kid on the head with magical unicorn wands. By the end, her stitch and the fact I shared it live on Instagram made for instant regret.
Then, after the requested birthday breakfast of French toast with lashings of maple syrup, littlest kid and I embarked on the mighty task of birthday cake baking. I have some experience in this area, so even though the cake tins I borrowed from work were of a ridiculous size for a family of only five, we ploughed on. Should we have downsized? Absolutely. Did we? No.
The requested red velvet cake became a mammoth version, covered with Oreo buttercream icing, chocolate caramel drip and decorative sweets. The kitchen now looked more like Dexter’s kill lab than the hub of our family home. Needs must, as what self-respecting teen doesn’t want a pizza tea and heart attack cake for their birthday?
Another big round of Happy Birthday and candles were blown out. At this point, I remembered a parenting rule whereby a serious sugar hit was NEVER a great idea after 10pm and hurried the cake away on the promise of wodges for breakfast instead. Death threats ensued, so I blamed the cake lockdown on their father.
Middle kid was happy. Her new ear buds allow for elevated social distancing. Biggest kid was happy as with this birthday over, she’s now allowed to start talking about hers. Smallest kid was happy as she had a piñata bat to torture her sisters with. The mister was happy as it was all over (until the next birthday). Me? I’m happy because they’re happy, even if I’m now on Slimming World’s top 10 most wanted list and I’m going to have to scrub the kitchen for a week. Happy Lockdown Birthday middle kid. You make us smile every single day.