DETRIMENTAL

I love throwing parties; they are so much fun to create. From the initial inspiration, planning out the menu, conjuring up ideas for a cake, gathering friends and enjoying their company! But after throwing my son his third birthday party I came to a realisation. When is our perfectionism detrimental?

I arrived at our venue early to set up. Not as early as I would have like but early enough I thought that I could get prime position, that being under the only undercover area that there was. I was wrong. There were already two parties set up, one that looked like it walked out of a styling magazine on how to throw the most wowstopping party around or maybe a typical blogger, you know the ones with the perfect lives, everything in it’s a place, perfect marriage, perfect kids, gorgeous house with all the bells and whistles etc etc. She had obviously been there for hours, and like my husband put it even if I got there an hour earlier I still would have been too late. I was upset, upset that my plans had not come to pass, so much effort had gone in yet it wasn't good enough, or so it seemed to me, I wanted to cry but didn't want to ruin my make-up.

Now let me set the scene; there were pretty tablecloths on top of with little suitcase’s, cute little vintage suitcase’s on which tiers of cupcakes, cake pops, and other baked goodies stood tall and proud, beautiful vessels holding the liquids in which were to be consumed, pretty platters, meter upon meter of trestle tables fully laden with matching decorations, tasty little morsels, and an urn bubbling away waiting to warm the guests tummies. Handmade buntings surrounded the gazebo brought from home which stood next to a huge undercover area, matching perfectly with her blue and red and little vintage train theme, oh and the dining chairs, she brought her dining chairs, how thoughtful, somewhere for her guests to sit. The hours upon hours it took her to pack up, and then unpack at home. But where was the kid? I saw a cake, but never heard a happy birthday, never saw him, he wasn’t there when she was setting up or packing up presumably being looked after while she was working away. And though I cannot judge her, as I do not know her or her circumstance, I am using her picture perfect party as the example.

And then here I am on my two wobbly roll out (yes roll out) 90cm x 90cm camping tables covered in a disposable plastic tablecloth feebly trying to set up with my very well behaved 3 year old, who hung around me desperate to go on a train ride, but only asking once and accepting my answer of mummy can’t take you yet because I am setting up for your party and daddy’s not here to help at the moment, for over an hour amusing himself with the train track I had brought along to wind around the food, slipping his hand in the bowl and helping himself to strawberries, and climbing the nearby tree, while I desperately stabbed what seemed like hundreds of pieces of fruit onto skewers. Hubby had to leave, he needed to find more tables so all this food that had been prepared could be laid out for my guests to devour in a couple of hours. He arrived with 20 minutes to spare, with my parents and some early party goers helping me quickly lay out the food on plastic disposable platters and decorate the beautiful yet naked weeping tree that we were celebrating under.

So when is our perfectionism detrimental? When our desire to showcase our lives as being picture perfect taking over our lives. Hours and hours, days upon days would have gone into her creating the scene that was laid out before you.  But when is that detrimental to our families, to our children, the ones we are doing this for in the first place. Where was her child as she was making everything seem, well perfect. Where was he while she was baking, crafting, preparing? With someone else? At day care? In front of the TV? Where was the quality time, the nurturing time spent with him, to make him feel loved, make him feel special. This is probably what he needed not some fancy pants party. Now something I have learned in my very short three years of parenting. Well only over the last year or so really, is that when I do not give my child the attention he craves, that special time, that he starts to act up, making my day turn to some horror scene. There are tantrums, refusing to listen to direction, and just general naughtiness. I am not saying he is perfect all of the time, we defiantly have our moments. He is a toddler, one who is desperate to find out where the boundaries are, where the line is and how far it is that he can push me. But on the days in which I am preoccupied, too caught up in my own desires, those are the days when the feral comes out. Why because that’s how he can get my attention. Is that what is happening to children now-a-days. That we desire to give them everything they desire, the perfect house, the perfect life, that that consumes us, not the desire to spend quality time with the ones we love as we are constantly busy. Is that what is causing young children to act up, seeking attention, for the elders of our generation to ask, what is happening to the youth of our society?

So for once I kept it simple. There are three large parties that we are in the process of throwing this year, my husband’s 30^th, my son’s third and a BaByQ to celebrate this baby that we so desperately wanted, but took us so long to conceive, I don’t think I would have had a baby shower otherwise, but I just want to celebrate this life, this life that is due only a few days out from my birthday. All the organising and preparing is a lot of time that I could be spending with my son, cherishing him and these precious moments, which are being consumed elsewhere. Hours in which I could be making him feel loved and valued, instead of putting on a front for life. Now don’t get me wrong a lot of time still went into this party 10 hours alone for the cake. And while that seems like a lot my son and I spent just about all that time together, playing with the fondant icing like it was play dough, slipping in sugary treats and general train inspired conversation. Yes there were moments of don’t you even think about touching that fondant train involved. But it was a good 10 hours (spent over two days).  

So this is my less than perfect blog, sharing my less than perfect life. There will be no stylised food, fancy photos with arrows and cutesy quotes, no perfectly co-ordinated parties, with matching bits and bobs. This is life and sometimes it is less than perfect, and I live that life. I have a renovation in the works, and chaos surrounding us as we struggle to complete some of it before bubba comes. There are less than perfect meals, tasty meals (and sometimes not) I don’t have hours to spend on taking it’s photo, making it look like it walked out of a restaurants kitchen, I want to eat it while it’s hot and celebrate what food is and something that should be, a coming together.  I love to craft, yet there will be no glamorous photos and sometimes not so glamorous results, time is precious and I do not have the time to stylise. I garden, a love, an outlet, yet there are no pretty flowers in my yard. Food is it. That is what I grow. I am a wife, less than perfect; there are many ways in which I can improve on this important role. I am a mother, less than perfect yet again, I am continually stretching and growing and recognising my faults, willing to improve on them, to shape my son into a young man, a young man that can deal with life’s situations responsibly and maturely, so that he can make wise decisions. The way I parent now impacts the man he is to become, a citizen, a friend, an employee/er, husband and father. If I can parent out of love with patients, kindness, and loving discipline, be one that is slow to anger and judge that will reflect in who he is to become. I have a long way to come to be that mother, with many mistakes made along the way.

So let me share my less than perfect yet totally perfect and enjoyable train party that I threw for my son.

The cake! so much fun to prepare!

My train inspired party food, we had coal run (less) balls, steam engine fairy bread, railway crossing cookies, railway spike rocky road, railway sleeper chocolate cake, water tower jelly cups and diesel fuel jelly cups along with fruit skewers, chips and dips. 

More cakey goodness.

The darn fruit skewers!

Blowing out the candles

This is the same recipe I used for my hubby's 30th birthday cake but without adding the cocoa powder to the second layer -  sensational chocolate mud cake

Riding the train and fishing for boogers

Too cute! And very excited to be riding the trains.