Sarah Whiteley hugging her two children, Theo and Immy, at home. They're sitting at the table on a celebratory day; there's a decorated cake and an orange drink in a champagne glass in front of them.
Now that my children are older, it’s a whole different ball game (Picture: Sarah Whiteley)

Looking carefully over my various spreadsheets, I ticked the items off my list. The venue was booked, decorations bought and the cake ordered.

‘We’re just waiting for the last RSVPs and that will be the guest list confirmed,’ I reported to my husband Tom. ‘Now all we need to do is finalise the catering. What kind of food do you think we should go for?’

Tom paused, thought carefully, then opened his mouth.

‘Sausage rolls and chocolate cornflake cakes?’ he suggested.

Because this party, which had been months in the planning, wasn’t a wedding or an anniversary celebration. It was my little girl Immy’s fourth birthday party.

But, given the amount of thought and planning that had gone into it – and coupled with the fact that I was also organising her big brother Theo’s sixth birthday party for later in the month – it felt like I was organising an event for royalty.

The 12 months since planning their last two parties had clearly been long enough for me to forget just how stressful and panicky these events made me, but now I was reminded anew of how many perils you face when organising a kid’s birthday celebration.

Long gone are the days of my children’s first and second birthday parties, where you asked a few friends over to your house and the kids napped or played calmly with a few toys while the adults chatted over a bottle or two of prosecco.

Now that my children are older, it’s a whole different ball game.

Sarah holding her kids as they sit on a round-a-bout in a park.
I wanted the ground to open up in front of me… (Picture: Sarah Whiteley)

First of all, there’s the starting question of where to have it – and what to do.

Do you hire a church hall and do the entertainment yourself? Book out a soft play and let them all run riot? Get an entertainer with a disco to take charge of the whole thing and gladly accept the eye-watering bill?

This time, Immy has opted for a giant soft play that we visited in the holidays and she loved, while Theo is having a bouncy castle and disco in a hall. So four months ago, I booked those up sharpish – in an area with four primary schools within spitting distance, you have to get in there quick. Woe betide the parent who leaves these things until a mere six weeks beforehand.

Then, there’s who to invite. Immy is still in nursery and, because all the parents drop off at different times and she’ll maybe drop in a name or two about who she has been playing with on any given day, I have no idea who her friends are.

I resorted to tempting her with the ‘job’ of helping me fill in the brightly coloured invites and managed to squeeze a few more names out of her that way, then left the rest to be given out by her key worker.

It was easier with Theo in school – I just sent him in with enough invites for his whole class.

But then that prompted a whole other problem that I’d never even considered. The one question I have come to dread above all others.

And it comes from the parents who reply to the invite with a cheerful ‘yes – can I bring their sibling too?’

I mean, in an ideal world, I’d love to exclaim, ‘The more, the merrier!’ – but, with the class of 30, added to my family, friends and their children, I already had a rather daunting 50 kids on the list.

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I didn’t think my sanity – or my bank balance – could cope with any more.

Because of course it’s not just the venue cost – it’s everything. Like the party bags.

The dreaded party bags.

They are actually my worst bit of every children’s party, full of plastic tat that the children dive into, become obsessed with for a full five minutes, then forget about (until you try and bin it – then they’re suddenly their favourite toys again).

I thought I had it cracked last year, when I decided to buy each child a book (with a bag of sweets and chocolate lollipop thrown in for good measure). I love reading and so am always eager to pass on this passion to the next generation.

It all seemed to go down well at the time – the kids got to pick between Peppa Pig, Thomas the Tank and Alan’s Big, Scary Teeth and the parents appeared to think it was a good idea too. One even copied it for her party, I noted smugly.

Then, a few months later, I was chatting to another group of mums and the subject of parties came up. ‘Urgh,’ one said. ‘My little boy was at one the other day and they didn’t have party bags – only books!’

I wanted the ground to open up in front of me…

And finally, there’s the catering. In an effort to save money, Tom and I have always made the buffet ourselves. Last year, we got mini sausages, cheesy crackers, mini cupcakes and I picked up two loaves of 50-50 bread for the sandwiches.

Sarah's kids at a fairground, excitedly showing what they won at the fairground - both are holding snake cuddly toys
I didn’t think my sanity – or my bank balance – could cope with any more (Picture: Sarah Whiteley)

You know, appealing to the parents and the kids.

But on the day, as I started buttering the slices, they suddenly looked brown. Too brown.

‘The children will never want these,’ I panicked to Tom. ‘And two loaves won’t be enough – what if the bigger ones tuck in and eat them all? Go and get another white loaf.’

‘The kids never eat the sandwiches,’ my friends warned when I fired off a worried WhatsApp. ‘Don’t even bother with the two loaves.’

But I was already ushering Tom out the door. ‘Get some more crisps – and maybe some chocolate brownies too!’

As we staggered to the leisure centre under the weight of cheese, ham and jam sandwiches, plus an additional two bags of food, I was still concerned we didn’t have enough.

‘How far is the nearest shop?’ I muttered to Tom.

But I shouldn’t have worried. Like, really shouldn’t have worried. Because the kids were far too busy running around to even look at the food. I think about two sandwiches were eaten – and one of those was by Tom.

We spent the following week having them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

So this year, to save on at least one of my worries, I’m determined to make the bare minimum. Only one loaf’s worth of sandwiches and a couple of bowls of crisps. Oh, and you can’t have a party without some sausage rolls and chocolate swiss rolls.

But now that they’re a year older, maybe they will eat more sandwiches…?

Oh help! 

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