Tag Archives: Birthday

Sweet Sixteen

I suspect that God is crying with happiness.

He is celebrating my daughters sweet sixteenth in his own special way.

He knows that our ‘proper’ partying will be done on Saturday.

And aware of my gardening skills, he’s decided to give the garden a good soaking, to ensure that, on the big day, the grass is a luscious green. To convince the bush that I carefully planted with my friend a few short weeks ago, and forgot to water once or twice since, forgives me for my sins and just slurps up the sogginess.

I’m sure he’ll stop those tears by Saturday. Just. In. Time… To let the ground dry out a little, before the pavilion digs in. Right ahead of the guests arriving for cake and barbecued sausages.

I’m positive his joyful, proud, emotional tears will turn into a beam of sunshiny jubilation.

Happy Birthday Joni. You are my sunshine. 8)

A quick post

Late. I’m late! For a very important update!!

Truly, I’m sorry, that’s two weeks in a row now. I could attempt a promise at being on time next week, but considering that one week today I’m hosting a sixteenth birthday party, which will only be rivalled by the royal wedding in terms of ‘parties of the year’, I’m not promising anything.

OK, OK. It’s a barbecue and some cake. And maybe a little karaoke. But my eldest is turning sixteen!

I am trying to convince myself, when I do catch a glance in the mirror, that I don’t actually look old enough to have mothered a child sixteen years ago.

Luckily for me, I often forget to look in the mirror. I know that because I’ve managed to leave the house with such things as coal on my face, chocolate in my hair and toothpaste on my top.

You’ve forgiven me for being late now, haven’t you?


This week I’ve been to the gym once and swimming twice. I think that technically means I’ve had a sporty week!

Also, I watched the film Penelope. An odd fantasy/romance. Definitely watchable. I couldn’t quite figure out where it was supposed to be set. At first, I suspected England then I felt confused when Penelope hit the town, as it all looked rather American. The cast also confused me, being from both sides of the water. Though as I said, it’s a fantasy, so I suppose that means anything goes. I guess my teenage girls would enjoy this one.

I have spent a lot of time this week finding the perfect bonding trip for my daughter Lori and I. After much discussion we decided to go a spa. It’s booked and we head off on her birthday on the 12th of June, so two weeks tomorrow!!

And before you start to feel light-headed and confused, she’s not celebrating her sweet sixteenth. She’ll be thirteen. But you would be wrong to assume that in the next two weeks two of my children will celebrate their birthdays. Because actually, three will. In between the birthdays of his two sisters, my son Aden will turn eleven. It’s like Christmas fervour hits us twice a year. Except now we have a four-year-old, who will not be five until November. Them’s the breaks kid. Sorry, I did contemplate her having two birthdays a year, like the queen. But four kids are expensive enough.

Although it doesn’t feel like I’ve actually posted 5 articles this week. Well, six if I include this one. (And I have several others partially written and swimming around in my head).

My flag counter now informs me that 98 flags have visited my site, so I’m now only three away from my target.

Saving the best ’til last: allow me to introduce a new fellow challenger


Yes, we are becoming a cult ;-)

And here are our other members:

The Laughing Housewife
Perfecting Motherhood
A matter of choice

Are we ready yet?

We are off to a birthday party this morning. It’s a bit of a drive so I have categorically stated that I want to leave in one hour.

That’s because at midday, the birthday girl has organised a horse-drawn carriage ride for those who want to take part.

Very exciting.

Sod the children. I really want to be driven around town, with the smell of horse pooh wafting up at me, so I’m up nice and early. Trying to have everyone ready on time.

Preparations are so far under way in the form:

  • Four-year-old Akasha has had all of her finger and toe nails painted, in a rainbow of colours, by her eldest sister Joni, has redressed in her dirty dress from yesterday and scrunched up her sunblock filled hair with a headband. My original plan had been that she should have a shower and fresh clothes. Oh well, at least she’s already on the second of her minimal three breakfasts.
  • Aden is finally in the shower. After some refusal. Including a debate on the fact that he had a shower yesterday. Even though my memory does not serve me young man, your greasy hair is a dead give-away.
  • Lori is up, showered and dressed. And has started making a birthday present, on the day, right before we leave, for the birthday girl.
  • Joni has painted nails as she promised, but has now been sidetracked by a good book. Still at least she did actually have a shower yesterday. And she knows exactly what she wants to wear, to go riding!?!?
  • Reini has decided he’ll cut the grass before we go. Which I would guess is a good hours work. Then he’ll need a shower and to work out which route to take…
  • I’m thinking of all the things we need to pack sunblock (three types), pullovers (just in case), present, cake (fortunately two were baked yesterday, though admittedly the delicious smell got to hubby and I last night, and we started eating one, but it’s the thought that counts, right?), insect repellent, small child’s Easter gift, first aid kit, cleaning up stuff (the parties outside), tissues, wallet, party address…

And I still need to have a quick bath. Prepare the damn present. Redress the dirty one. Decide what to wear. Get the boy back out of the shower…

Don’t forget to take the Ritalin. Not me. The afternoon dose for the boy. Put it my bag.

I think I’ll just have a quick coffee first. I suspect I need some energy.

Reveal All

Sarsm’s Blog has been around for almost a year now. My “Quest for humour in my existence” has been so satisfying that I have decided to march forth and continue, hopefully onwards and upwards.

25.03.2011 is my first blog birthday. It’s exciting. Dramatic. I am thinking of purchasing some prosecco. Just for the hell of it. Feel free to join me in raising a glass. The 25th, is luckily for us, not a school night. Phew!

Before the ‘big day’ though, I thought I’d take a look back over the year.

Inspired by some of my peers and quite honestly surprised (and naturally delighted) by some of the searches that found me, I thought I’d start off by doing ‘a reveal’.

Search terms, relevant and otherwise:

  • http://www.sarsm.wordpress.com (fair enough)
  • sarah papa bear blog (OK)
  • sarsm radio (hmm??)
  • hot six (ah that poem)
  • hot hot six
  • hot hot hot six (popular search, dear people, I suspect also a popular typo)
  • hot six for 17 years (so long?)
  • hot six love
  • hot six family (???)
  • santa came to night
  • gym humor blog (aw shucks)
  • gymslips blogspot
  • my muscle men
  • blog very muscled men (think this visitor may have been rather disappointed)
  • dear somebody
  • “partied out”
  • “e numbers”
  • funny christmas party poems and stories
  • funny christmas poems chick lit
  • professional invitation for discussion (nice!)
  • reason for my existence no children 8O
  • embarrass yourself bladder
  • “running water” pee
  • escalator on trolley prohibited (???)
  • greeting card “misread signs”
  • wake up sleepy head love poems my love
  • funny poem about breakfast (I ate a lot of breakfasts, but did I write about them?)

And it would seem my blog is a source of expertise, medical and otherwise:

  • adhd parenting blogs
  • my adhd son
  • is ritalin a strong medicine?
  • ritalin and parents
  • ritalin hitting head
  • ritalin tics
  • crinkled toes
  • how to embarrass yourself for school (what?)
  • muscle men 2011 :-D
  • autism teachers blog
  • new oven blog cooking
  • ultimate question

And don’t forget on the theme of my expertise:

  • hot six for 17 years

But my favourite poor, misled, searcher requested:

  • making hand torn envelopes blog

I hope my Reveal All post shows that my quest has thrown up some unexpected opportunities for humour in my existence.

Thank you!!

The Perfect Princess Party – Recipe for Success

Twelve happy faces
All lined up in two rows,
At the head of table
A pretty pink and perfect throne.

VIP treatment
Photos galore
Standing on red carpet
Or by the pink curtained door.

Crowned and robed,
All the little guests
Fun and laughter
Are their only quests.

Cake stand
Full of muffins,
Purple fizzy lemonade,
Crown shaped sandwiches
All on the table laid.

Making pretty necklaces,
Passing parcels round,
Swirling, twirling ball gowns
To the swan lake sound.
Narrating sleeping beauty,
Then lying on the floor,
All is still and calm
Peace has returned once more.

Birthday cake
Princess form
Best as can be done!
(Still in the making
Would you believe
My three-year old
Came to me
And said,
- “Looks a little shit mum!”


I took my theatrical knife
And drove it through my heart
Staggered a little
And glanced at her -
The desired effect


And my three-year old
Survived -
And became four).

The art of manipulation

If you have read some of my other stories, or I am fortunate enough to know you; then you will already know that my youngest child is the three-year old Akasha.

She is, it would be correct to say, an adorable child. However, it is impossible to ignore, that she is an absolute master in the art of manipulation. With just one hand, she has for every one of the five of us, one very own finger for each of us to curl around.

I guess, with three much older siblings, she has much opportunity to learn. Five of us to feed her spongy brain. She is definitely smart and learns fast. But her winning ace has to be her massive brown eyes. One flutter of those eyelashes and I, anyway, fall.

The last few weeks have been mega shopping weeks. One birthday and one party after another, has thus obligated.

Akasha’s first issue, at the present time, is that she is the only one of our four children not to have a birthday, falling in the first two weeks of June. She’s been impatiently awaiting her birthday and therefore princess/pink party for several weeks. On each shopping trip she spots a new potential festive item to add to her list of requirements. No matter how hard I try to explain, she simply cannot comprehend how far away her November birthday actually is.

The nice part for her, is though, that a few people, have given her a small gift too. Always greatly appreciated.

Her second concern at the moment is money. Not only are the other children receiving mountains of cool presents. They also have a sudden influx of money. And they’re either constantly going on about, or actually buying stuff.

Akasha has found the sudden urge to become a purchaser too.

A couple of weeks ago, both Aden and Akasha procured football stickers in a supermarket give-away. In itself this prevailed as a highlight in Akasha’s week. She ‘had long watched’ from the sidelines as Aden, the only boy, received his stickers, (as simultaneously, I obtained the bill) at the checkout. Rendered too girlie, too young, Akasha waited, empty-handed. Jealousy glimmered. And Aden protected his precious treasure. His manly stash.

As Aden tore open his packets and declared which men he “really wanted”, Akasha clasped hers proudly in hand. Delighted by her unexpected windfall. Soon after, Aden discovered the man he particularly needed, had not been acquired. And his eyes started to wander to his little sisters unopened wrappers.

He began to bid.

“Akasha, Akasha! If you have Blah Blah Blah… I’ll swap you… I’ll give you… What do you want? I’ll PAY you!”

The head tipped up.

And the eyes sparkled.

“Okay. Okay, Aden.”



We arrived home. Money and stickers changed hands. I didn’t see it. But I heard of it.

Aden gave Akasha 60 cents for three stickers.

Akasha was ecstatic. Finally she had some cold hard cash.

We continued on throughout the month with our many shopping trips. There are other birthdays too. And a wedding. A school trip to Budapest. Our anniversary. Shoe requirements. And sometimes even food to buy.

Each time we’re in a shop, Akasha sees something that she desires. And wants to buy it. In the past I could always ask, “Do you have any money?” The situation would be immediately resolved. But now the answer is always the same:

“Yes! Aden gave me money!”

I stand in every shop and try to patiently explain that that, 35 Euro toy, can not be paid for with 60 cents. But she doesn’t get it. She, of course, has no sense of the value of money. She is too young to even try to understand. I have no chance.

Sometimes I buy her a little present. She’s always so pleased. I’m then joyful too. I do this for all the kids. Mostly individually. To make them feel special. But it’s just not possible with four kids, to buy them gifts all the time. Far too expensive. To be honest I wouldn’t want to anyway. It’s not necessary. There’s not enough space at home. And I find it better if they can appreciate what they are given. It doesn’t always work, of course. Especially in today’s throw away society. But I think it’s a good guide. All of the no’s make all of the yes’ much more appreciated.

Akasha, now armed with her 60 cents, has, if only in her own mind, the spending power of any millionaire.

And guess what?

It would appear that mummy is rich too. Always with a purse full of money.

This week in a local department store, Akasha announces that she would like that playmobil set. That one, right there. And that I should buy it for her. In return, she would give me the money back at home. From her 60 cents. Quite matter-of-fact.

Again explanations. No way. Your money just will not cover that. She listens. She cocks her head. She tries to follow. Eventually she sadly takes my hand, and lets me trail her to the checkout with my shopping basket full. On the approach she spots chocolates and juice. Can she have that then? No. She looks into my basket of necessary crap. Shampoo. Cards… She catches sight of wrapping paper… Can she at least buy that? Yes, yes… Happy with the compromise. The assistant babbles out some price. And I sign on the dotted line.

We leave hand in hand. Her carrying her gift wrap and me with my cloth bag.

We place all our wares in the car. She secures hers with a seat belt. Everything has to be protected at the moment. Toys. Kindergarten rucksack. Pictures. Even once: a leaf. No matter how late we’re running, she has to put the safety belt on by herself. Every time. Generally that’s why we are running late. She is completely independent and must do everything for herself. Or help with every job I do. No matter how difficult it is.

We drive to the supermarket and its neighbouring shoe shop. Food, and Akasha has outgrown her Kindergarten slippers.

I park. We walk together towards the shops. I look down at my daughter.

I’ve hardly heard the D-word from Akasha before. But then smiling sweetly, with those dangerous, colossal eyes:

“You have to buy me something, Darling mother!”

I can feel myself falling…

We leave the shoe shop sometime later. Akasha carries her own shopping bag. It contains one pair of Kindergarten slippers and one pair of pink and white ‘princess’ sandals…

Partied out

We’re all partied out.
The walls know what we’ve been through.

The neighbours have heard the noise.
The local store has had a run on Lego toys.

A child wakes in the morning
States her tummy aches
‘I ate too much yesterday, Mummy”
But soon heaps breakfast cereal onto her plate.

A Hawaiian Party
Trampoline to spring
Volcano Birthday cake
Pass the coconut around the ring.

And a little boy
Who bounced far too hard
Landed on his recently operated nose,
A guest of ours is marred.

Screams echoed through the garden
Everybody froze.
Only for a moment
On the party goes.

Children in the garden.
Kiddies in the lounge.
Girls hula hooping
Boys trying to burn us down.

Singing Happy Birthday to the sparkler on the cake
Parents of those 19 dears will soon be on their way.
On the horizon, children’s bedtime and a bottle of wine:
Hip Hip Hooray!

Looking at the debris:
Wrappers on the floor,
Kebab sticks harpooned in the once green lawn.
Olives uneaten,
Remnants of cake.
Once empty fruit punch bowl
Now a yellow-brown lake.

Children finally off to bed.
The tidying begun,
We look towards our bottle of wine
Perhaps this time we have won.

Take a seat upon the sofa
Cuddle for a moment or two.
Think of that relaxing stuff, just meant for me and you…
Eyes close for a second
Hold on I’ll be right there
But then I am just sleeping
And dribbling in your hair…

Volcano Birthday Cake