Housewarming Hullabaloo...

In a life filled (mostly) with the mundane (ie. childcare, domestic tasks, bills, blech blech blech...) I think it's important to carve out moments where you make memories that will amuse for years to come.  Memories which will sustain you when/if you end up drooling under a blanket, being spoon fed jello by disinterested  care workers in ill-fitting blue uniforms somewhere in Slough.  Everyone past the age of 70 says the same thing:  they dine out on all their good memories forever more, and you can never have too many - because I mean, the same few will get a tad boring after a while non?

Last night we finally had our long-awaited Housewarming Party.  We felt we absolutely needed to mark out a proper celebration for what has essentially been two years of utter hell and disappointment and delusion.  Third time lucky we turned out to be, and are now ensconced in the perfect house FOR US.  (That's the important bit...sometimes the house finds you and pulls you in...and sometimes it's not the 'dream home' you had imagined but something infinitely more suited to you regardless.)

Last night, looking around at all the smiley faces, dancing like teenagers, making way too many cocktails and basically being entirely too silly for anyone over the age of 25,  I realised that we not only have a great mass of amazing mates who span twenty odd years, but even some new ones who seemed to fit in seamlessly with our old crew.

My darling 81 year old father surpassed all levels of amazingness by taking not one but all three(!) of the monsters off our hands for a sleepover last night...without any help! I hope I'm that cool when I'm his age. As a result, we were able to be really loud, really silly, and not fear the plaintive 3am cry of 'Muuuuummmmy!.....DaaaaaaaDaaaaaa!' (a sound which will put the fear into the heart of any parental type).

Much amusement was had by guest number 7 and onwards, when our giant wall-mounted coat rack fell from the wall under the weight off too many coats, and from thenceforth, all coats were relegated to Eggie's bedroom.  The husband can program the heck out of any computer, but is not terribly anal about the outcome of any haphazard DIY work, so it's to be expected I guess.  I'm not much better I suppose.  It became pretty obvious last night after umpteenth comments, that I've somehow transformed out home into something more resembling an exclusive members club - than any semblance of a practical home.  The place is littered with fairy lights, mood lighting, candles, and giant fluffy pillows. Elegant it may not be, but it's cozy to be sure. So there.

Before the party I had sat the husband down and explained that since I had not had time to clean all the boys bedrooms etc. that he kindly refrain from showing people around last night.  He sort of nodded and appeared to agree, but then I found him conducting group tours a-plenty throughout the evening...so much so that to my utter bewilderment/amusement, I found our albeit large but old fashioned and Moroccan inspired en suite turn into the pop-up VIP room of the night.  No comment.

So to all those who came, I thank and salute you.  To those who were not able to come...c'est dommage.  And to our new home:  You officially rock.  We thank you and intend to enjoy every last little corner and crevice of your ancient creaking form.

And to our neighbours:  Please don't hate us.  We are so so sorry.

next morning carnage

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