"It's Going To Be A 'Bintang' Birthday"

Having spent most of the past twenty-four hours with my head down a toilet bowl, trying to brave the ravages of some mystery tropical flu, it is with mild distress that the husband and I, both weakened and feeling rather frail, stare across the table at each other and wonder how on earth we're going to pull off Egg's 6th Birthday Party tomorrow.

Procrastinators that we are, we had decided to devote all day TODAY to driving around town, picking up various presents, getting decorations and constructing party games for the dozen or so children that are expected to join in the birthday festivities.

How were we to know that the sudden onset of nausea was to herald a most violent dysentry-like affliction which would have me crying in agony and continuing to heave out my innards, long after there was anything to heave. It was like some sort of nightmare, and the husband caught it just after I, rendering childcare a near impossibility. (Hats off to the husband however, for this morning managing to rustle the children off to school in between vomiting outbursts.)

At any rate, we have a mere 3 hours tomorrow morning to get everything ready. I shall hopefully have both the Pembantu and our cleaner Wayan on a balloon blowing assembly line, thus insuring that for every balloon Dumpie gleefully pops in anticipation, there shall be another two waiting to take its place.

Fortunately we live five minutes away from a giant supermarket called 'Bintang'. We are hoping, no needing it to be, the answer to our consumerist prayers. We are praying that somewhere within its aisles we shall find not just the makings of goodie bags, but potential presents for pass the parcel, party decorations and all manner of other bits and bobs. A large ask for an Indonesian supermarket.

Saying that, we have only had one RSVP. This is due we think, to the fact that this year the invites were homemade, painstakingly copied out by hand nine times, very late at night, and delivered by an absent-minded Egg. Lacking such details as address and RSVP instructions, it is no wonder that a second set of further instructions had to be handed out two days ago. And by all accounts, this hastily scrawled RSVP note seems to be the only 'invite' that made it home.

So...there is every likelihood that Egg's party shall be under-attended. But saying that, given that a local grocery store is going to be the source of all party accoutrements, perhaps this is a good thing.

He may only be turning six, but is old enough now to suss out his parents as a pair of lame-o's...

Let's hope - for the little guy's sake - that we pull it together and make it through tomorrow...with a minimum of shame and embarrassment.