Dylans Party

This weekend the weekend of the JOINT BIRTHDAY PARTY.

There are five of us, Annette, Helene, Julie, Emma and me, who hang on a regular basis, whose babies, Orlan, Archie, Eva, Maisey and Dylan, were all born pretty near each other. Rather than having separate parties we had decided to have a joint party, we had also agreed that our little bambino's have got enough stuff, so we decided to ask everyone who was coming to the party to not bring presents, but to make donations to the NSPCC.

Invitations went out, the room was booked and the cakes made (thanks to Annette). Saturday morning came and I felt bloody awful, I had spent most of the night poo-ing through the eye of a needle and being violently sick when I wasn't poo-ing.

Mum and dad agreed to take Dylan to the party, because Keefe was going to do his shopping - priorities in the right place, or what. After dropping Dylan off at mine, he then had the cheek to invite himself to the party. I was too ill to actually argue with him. He didn't even see that as he didn't know anyone else there and had made no contribution to the party that it was, in my opinion, wrong for him to be there.

But he went, so did mum and dad. Mum called me half way through the party to say that Emma, had asked Keefe if he was "Dylan's Grandad". God that made me smile - bitch that I am!

Me, I spent the day lying on the sofa, watching "Sharp" in between visits to the toilet.

Mum and dad took Dylan for the night, because Keefe had to tidy up and he had had him for two nights previously.

I'm saying nothing!!!! (four exclamation marks should say it all)