I'd like to say it was down to my melt-in-the-mouth 1000 calorie cupcakes, the OTT blue and pink mega balloons (again thanks S and D for all the blowing...my what great lungs y'all have...and why anyone would ever dream of having a party without inviting the pair of you is beyond me), or our artfully arranged terrace as a venue (which despite being typically 'moody' summer-wise did NOT get drenched in rain)...but truthfully, was probably down to the lukewarm bottles of Prosecco and constant jugs of Pimm's being ferried out by a coerced guest (thanks C - once again you did not disappoint - despite threatening several times to simply stick a giant straw in the jug and not return).
Anyway, as is often the case, the husband refuses to accept the fact that I'm just not a 'Google Doc' kinda girl. Simples. HE uses this online document to keep track of his comings and goings (mostly goings), whilst I use the ever more humble, and supremely more relevant CHALKBOARD in the BLOODY KITCHEN!
So because we are arranging our diaries on two different platforms and have been for some time (and given that the husband does not spend a great deal of time in the ahem, kitchen, doing 'kitchen stuff'), it should come as no surprise to discover that I had arranged 'Auntie Mo's' surprise shower on the day the husband got back from an overnight 120 mile cycle to the Suffolk coast (sigh). In fact, I couldn't have planned it better, as his exhausted sweaty arrival back was going to perfectly coincide with the arrival of our first guests at 3pm.
After much mulling over and stressing about the impossibility of it all: ie. hardcore childcare + major food prep + decorating+ cleaning etc., I calmly gave the husband two options (which is 'marriage speak' for I sat him down and ranted and raved for a good twenty minutes using every threat I could think of):
"Cycle those callipygian curves of yours through the night like your life depends on it. Because it does. If you do NOT get on that first bus back, don't bother coming back."
(The irony being of course that this was no incentive whatsoever, as the husband has been trying for many months (years?) to get me to divorce him so he can go off and be a monk in Tibet or some such. There is no bloody way I'm going to let THAT happen though, as I am certainly not raising these three boys on my own. And he knows that. However, it doesn't stop the two of us from mentally competing sometimes to scare each other into thinking we're on the verge of doing a major life 'runner'. Keeps the old spark there anyway I suppose...)
Anyway, I digress. The husband (though causing major adrenaline-fuelled surges of nausea and panic when I couldn't reach him on his mobile all day) DID in fact rock up an hour or so before the event (hence the pervy pants hoovering scenario our dear friends had the misfortune to walk into) and despite not having had a wink of sleep, was as decent a host as you could hope for. Well almost :)
So all's well that ends well, and now we're spending the next few days preparing for a potentially wet weekend in Beccles at LATITUDE FESTIVAL where I will make it my mission to watch 'First Aid Kit' perform "My Silver Lining" with Egg - who loves that song as much as I do and walks around the home singing the sort of right lyrics with tremendous gusto - and cart the fat baby around in his ickle wellies (hilarious), stuffing bags of crisps and lollies into his mouth to keep him entertained.
Fortunately, the good people at Latitude have issued me with a Press Pass so I shall be attempting to put that to good use by sneaking off into the enclosed area, using the free wifi, clean(er) toilets, and sipping the gratis drinks...pretending that there aren't three dirty screaming children and an irate husband on the other side of the curtain who belong to me.