Happy birthday?!

As an Estonian tradition was suggested to me, four years ago, I started developing a very unhealthy habit of cooking different cakes, monthly for our first boubou, until he turned one. After enduring the stress, this ritual became yearly and doubled once we multiplied once more with our second boubou.

As a parent, I always take pride in making those, not for the general appreciation, but for the Buls reactions - those are priceless and precious - making those anxious months of preparation and mad hours of baking all worth it. 

As a parent, we all strive for the best for our children, even though our definition of best varies, we all strive towards giving them the best start in life. The emotional daily ride that takes us from the best to the worse feelings is part of the rollercoaster and birthdays have an incredible signification. As a mother, my Boubous' birthday remind me of the day they came into this world, the unfathomable shower of emotions that splashed all over me, but it also reminds me of my own mortality and how each of those birthdays is precious. Each must count, because you never know when the three Moirai will cut the thread.

Well, having skillfully dodged a few, we all know that we will end up sitting at another child’s birthday party. From experience, here in Egypt, the first faux-pas would be to arrive on time – please be fashionably late.  Some birthday parties are hosted at home, and some people have the most lavish and capacious villas and yards… As you come in, not knowing whether to be dazzled or judgmental, you will find the yard ahead, it may be punctuated by a swimming pool, fruit trees or more importantly, immense blown up castles, organised for the children, along with a magician and several other games laid out all across the garden. At those Gatsby like parties, there are about 15 people slaving around, who have been temporarily or permanently employed by the family.

It becomes unhealthy when the birthday child tells you that she will not pick up the popcorn she spilled on the floor, because it is her house and her maid is going to do it for her...

As a dutiful mother, and more importantly because I love to play with my Boubou, I am the one that stands besides the castle, watching the children play. Later, more children will come with their mothers (because evidently, daddy is busy working) and there is an additional person with each of them. Those ladies are black African ladies or from the Philippines, they are the children's nannies. Why would one want to see her offspring play with others, bounce with a dashing smile and sit on the grass? It feels much better to sit on a throne at the other end of the garden, struggling with your expensive heels dug in the grass! The nannies, on the other hand, will; as we all know, if you have a Black African nanny, she will do a much better work at carrying a chair for you (if you fancy watching your child for a minute) to the castle than you would yourself. Some skills you simply just don't have...

As you are sitting on the grass, cast away from the glittering ladies, you could meet “Jessie”, who shares her origins between Uganda and Rwanda. A lovely lady, who, like the other nannies, kept a maternal eye on the boy she minds, despite his disgracefully rude attitude towards her. This is my crowd, the one I would choose to sit with, in the midst of opulence, bathing under the sun, on the grass of that very lovely yard.

Despite many self questioning about parenting ability, those days, you truly feel like the mother of the year, sitting by your child (and all the others who will join us because you care about them), playing and chatting with them, as well as laughing and rolling on the floor. Is it worth hiring a whole horde of clowns and entertainment when you will watch it from the distance, through the eyes of another person? I'd rather keep baking!

In the midst of all this, I heard my son say: "I cannot believe there are no balloons filled with water to throw at each other" or “do you think her mummy made that cake for her?”.  Ah, children, they don't know about those non waterproof Gucci bags and the busy schedule of pedicures... And I am so proud of my boy for that!