My girls turned six on Saturday, and we had a lovely party with a house full of people: big ones and little ones; sisters, grannies, cousins, aunties and uncles; teachers, neighbours and friends. We have a large extended family so it’s easy to fill a room, and with everyone else packed in it can be a bit of a tight squeeze. Knowing all of this, we decided to go ahead and have a piñata, even though the forecast was for rain and it would have to be inside. Little kids? A big stick? In a small space? The girls were desperate for one, but I dithered about it for days, picturing injuries and worrying about whether the air ambulance could land in the garden. I left it so late to decide that I couldn’t actually get one, once we’d agreed, and so I had to make my own.
Yes, I made a pinata. And while I was busy doing it, I was thinking about whether this was the type of mother I thought I would be. I didn’t know, I hadn’t planned that far. I did appear to be the kind of person that has industrial sized bottles of glue, rolls of tape and an unlimited supply of coloured tissue paper and sweeties readily available, and the ability to navigate the quagmire of ‘how to’ videos on Google. I hadn’t really planned for that, either, but we are the sum of our parts, and I am not surprised that this is how I’ve ended up. Like all mothers, like all people, I think I’m just doing the best with what I’ve got. And while I wish what I had was a calmer disposition and less anxiety, what I do have is the ability to make things, and the willingness to try.
So, I concluded that I was the type of mother that was trying her best, and I was pretty chuffed with my piñata. On Saturday, nobody lost an eye and everyone, even the very little ones, got a turn, and the bigger ones shared out the sweeties and then we all had a big piece of cake. Some of the even bigger ones had a glass of wine, and then everyone went home. It was a great day.
The other mommies and I had spoken a bit about how we wish we had recorded more: more special dates (first word, first tooth), more important events (first bike ride, first play date) or more funny things the children had said. So I asked the girls what they had to say about turning six and the state of their wee worlds, and I’m recording it here.
What are you going to do while you’re six? Morag is going to: sleep outside, and Beatrix is going to help daddy and granny feed the cows.
What happens when you get older? M: “Our talents will grow as we grow.” (Someone has been listening at school!) B: “we will move up into different primaries. Like P2.”
What are you going to do when you are a grown up? M: do sewing – be a sewer. B: be a librarian farmer.
How do you be good? Beatrix: “come when people call you and be okay when you disagree.” Morag: “eat good food.”
There you have it. They seem to have being six all mapped out, so far, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.
Happy birthday, beautiful girls xx