What's the perfect present?

In the aftermath of Renée's birthday party we have been left with an overwhelming pile of presents, some which we have yet to open (and yes I know I only have myself to blame because I did invite the whole class), but it really does seem rather a lot for a 5 year old. There are books, colouring books, colouring pens, paints, a computer(!), a paint your own tea set, a make your own bag, purse and cupcake set in felt, fairy wings, water bombs, a bug kaleidescope, make your own bouncy ball set, an enormous array of High School Musical 'stuff', a jigsaw, play dough, a make your own jewellery set. The list goes on. There is really nothing left that she needs (not that she actually 'needs' anything on the list, but you know what I mean).

Slightly digressing, but still on the point, my husband is in France at the moment. He's been working, but has now managed to meet up with his parents who we are off to visit tomorrow. And yesterday I received a text from hubby asking what Renée wanted for her birthday because the grandparents were off to buy a present. After much thought I texted back a really helpful 'There's nothing she needs. Can you think of anything? You decide'.

But during that lengthy thought process which resulted in absolutely nothing, it got me wondering what the perfect present would be. Last year as a 4th birthday present my aunt sent her a 'Grow Your own Butterfly kit'. I actually wrote a post about it, entitling it the Most Memorable Present ever given. Unfortunately I ended up offending the giver of the gift because I think I may have written something along the lines of;

Never buy a child a butterfly rearing kit for their birthday. Seriously. It may seem like a good idea when it's all prettily packaged in the shop, but once you've opened it, it's like a time bomb waiting to go off (or fly away in this instance).

In fact, I wrote exactly that because I've just cut and pasted it. The truth is, it was probably the best present she's ever received - at least it's the one that she's liked the most and a year later she still talks about how she raised a butterfly all by herself. But there's the rub...It wasn't all by herself at all. Oh no. It required rather a lot of parental intervention. And call me lazy (don't worry - you can, I am, and on top of that I also have a two-year-old who likes to disrupt), but my favorite presents are ones where there is no parental intervention at all. Take the bug Kaleidescope for example. It has a viewing window complete with breathing holes at one end where you can drop in any manner of bug and view it in detail through the kaleidescope. So far we've had a worm, a woodlouse, an ant and a snail under examination. And what's even more exciting is that I haven't had to do anything. It has kept Renée amused in the garden for hours and I haven't had to help her or attend to the present even for a second.

BUT. It's not all about me. Is it??

No. (Unfortunately not)!! It's about Renée. And after 3 whole hours in the garden with the bug kaleidescope, she wanted to do something else. What she came to me with filled me with horror. Make your own purse kit. Included in the kit is a needle...

So that'll be parental intervention then.

I looked at the instructions and gulped. A lot. Now if you remember, I'm not exactly a 'crafty' type of person - how could you forget the pom pom??? So to sit down and make a purse with all fiddly buttons and different stitches wasn't exactly my kind of present. But I am nothng if not a loving Mother and I will do anything to put a smile on my child's face. So I put my fears aside and embraced the challenge head on. And do you know what?

I really rather enjoyed it.

Just take a look at this. And don't tell me I don't spoil you with photos.

Have you ever seen blanket stich as good as this? Nope. Didn't think so...

So there you go. It seems that all I need to do is make a little bit of effort and everyone is happy. Next up, it's the make your own bag and cupcake set.

As an aside, we're off to France this afternoon to visit grandparents. I will try, try, try to post and comment, but if I don't, please wait for me. I'll be back...

Party preparations

So I think amidst my blogging breakdown (and slight pom pom obsession) I may have forgotten to mention that it's Renée's fifth birthday party tomorrow (which could trigger a real breakdown rather than a mere virtual one...we shall see). She won't actually be five until the end of next week, but what with husband being away on a surf road trip (thinly disguised as a week's work), we've had to bring the party forward. Call me naive, but I decided to invite her whole class of 30, not wanting to exclude anyone and also, hoping that as it's the Summer holidays, most people will be away and only half of those invited will be around.

Trust me to have picked the one weekend when everyone is at home. Well, 25 out of the 30 anyway.

So this morning, in a mild state of panic at the prospect of having to entertain 25 five-year-olds inside my own home, I decided to stock up on party paraphenalia from an out-of-town Supermarket which I've never actually been to, but which I've heard sells not only food and drink but all manner of bits and pieces needed for party games too - sacks for sack races, plastic eggs and spoons, bean bags, bunting. You name it.

The thing is, there's nothing worse than visiting a Supermarket you've never been to, when (a) you're in a hurry, (b) you have an unbelievably enormous amount of items to buy and (c) you have a small child with you who's favourite words are 'I want', followed by everything in the store.

It really isn't all that pleasant.

Add to that the fact that it was a very warm Saturday morning and every other Mother and their screaming child had decided to shop at that precise moment and you can just about imagine the tranquility of the scene.

And this is where I revert to the present tense, just to get you in the mood.

The whining cries of 'I want' are emanating from all four corners of the shop. Everywhere I turn there is a red-faced toddler in the middle of the worst tantrum of their life, and an equally red-faced parent wishing they were anywhere but here, and I CAN NOT, for the life of me, locate one item that I have come in for.

My urge, of course, is to turn around and drive straight back to the comfort of my home, but I am a Mother and I have a Mother's responsibility to throw a fantastic birthday party and I can't succeed in doing that without my sacks and plastic eggs.

So instead, I walk from aisle to aisle, scanning every shelf for at least one item that I can cross off my rather lengthy list, swearing to myself never to set foot inside this hideous place again and soldier on. A toddler in the sweetie aisle has just thrown themselves on the floor in front of me, so I hastily back away, narrowly missing the teetering jelly beans with the edge of my trolley.
And that's when I hear a child being told off by a voice full of hatred and malice. I wonder what this poor little monkey has done to warrant such a verbal battering.

'Get out of my way. Pesky child'.

I turn round expecting to see a small toddler cowering under the onslaught, but instead there's a rather elderly-looking woman in some sort of motorised transport and she's looking straight at me, almost frothing at the mouth with distaste.

'You're in my way, you menace. Move. Can't you walk in a straight line?'

I look around and around and then I realise that it must be me she's talking to.

'Erm, obviously no I can't you bloody old woman', I want to shout. 'I have no idea where I am, what I'm doing here and I wish I'd never come, but thanks for making me feel even better about myself. Now toddle off and leave me alone before I really give you something to moan about.'

Of course I don't actually say that. She does look rather old. And she's probably infirm.

So I just stare incredulously at her, take a deep breath in and continue on my way. As does she, muttering under her breath as she goes.

Should I have been flattered that she had referred to me as a child? Stupidly I felt quite shaken by the whole affair. Violated even. But if that's what I have to go through for my children, then so be it.

Wish me luck for the party. I think I may need it...