Where Smat goes, the World follows

turns out that the Birthday BBQ was more of a success than I originally thought - one of DD1's friends is having her own Birthday BBQ next weekend as our one was "so much fun".
You heard it here first - the best parties involve jelly, doughnuts, and Smat explaining the rules of "Passing the Balloon Over and Under" several million times until they FINALLY sink in. Good practice for Brownies next week, mind.

tasteless winge alert

We went to the supermarket this morning to do some shopping. Noticed the ambulance outside, blue lights flashing and so on. Inside some aisles blocked off while the paramedics tried to revive collapsed person. Fair enough. But why couldn't the assisstant "guarding" the end of the milk aisle pass me 2 litres of skimmed milk? I had no intention of joining in the heart massage etc (only being trained in children and babies) - I just wanted some milk for the kids' breakfasts tomorrow morning. Why so unhelpful? And why couldn't the person have collapsed in the biscuit aisle, then I wouldn't have bought several packets of chocolate biscuits, which I'm now obliged to eat, thus rendering me hugely enormous?
Some people, eh?

Being a pushy mum works..or does it?

Created a bit of a fuss today at swimming. I asked the instructor why, if DD3 wasn't allowed to move up a class until she was 4, the instructor of the new class had invited two children who weren't even 3 to move up. Not that I was actually fussed especially since DD3 will swim better where she is, but it's the principle. So then I get a phone call from the new instructor saying they'd like to move DD3 up into her class. AARRGGHH. I've taken the place, but what happens if the instructor is horrid to us because I've caused a fuss, and potentially got her into trouble with her boss? As DH said, at least there'll be witnesses if she tries to drown us.
Off to practise "paddle, paddle, breathe, paddle, paddle, breathe" in the bath.

And after the party, the peace and quiet...

Full recovery mode today after yesterday's party (imagine 11 over-excited 12 year olds, some party games involving jelly and doughnuts, and a trampoline) - still looking at the mess outside of spilled jelly and sparkly sequins but have no enthusiasm for clearing up. Fortunately they were all collected on time (think the parents felt sorry for me after a three-hour long party), so I was able to get to a restorative glass (or two) of wine quite quickly. Now just to deal with the leftovers -"overcatering" is my middle name. Anyone fancy a chicken kebab?