You have a headache. Obvs!
You keep humming ‘Bob the Builder’ without realising and will do for the next week as it is now etched into you brain.
Your offspring is not only bouncing off the walls but doing flipping triple somersaults as a result of consuming three times their body weight in sugar. You actually google the symptoms of a sugar induced coma. Just In case.
You find yourself giving away cake to passers-by because you have loads left and because kids cakes are disgusting, 90% icing, 10% cake. Unless you are one of those brilliant mummies who makes the cake themselves. You’ll never find me buying my kids cake from Asda *cough cough cough*
Your house is now filled with redundant balloons and banners that will stick around for a week irritating you slightly more each day. When you have the nerve to face the inevitable tears that will follow all birthday remnants being removed, you put them in a safe place for next year, never to be found again.
You keep having flashbacks to having to wipe someone’s arse that wasn’t yours or your child’s. Gross.
Even though the house is now quiet (Apart from the thud of your sugar induced child’s head hitting the wall repeatedly), the screams have ended, the shouting is over, the thunderous hoard of footsteps have left, your ears will still be ringing from their audible assault.
Your house needs to be cleaned from top to bottom and even then you know you will be finding sticky fingerprints and left over cheesy wotsits for weeks. Think pine needles after Christmas has gone!
You now have a severe dislike for one child and have made a mental note not to invite them next year. Harsh but so very true. There is always one. For me it’s normally a screamer!
You have a bottle of wine in the fridge with your name on it, and you have so earned it.
Next time I’m hiring a hall.