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The very real pain of throwing a child's birthday party

Jane and Bryony Gordon -
Jane and Bryony Gordon -

Jane Gordon

Perhaps if Edie’s fifth birthday hadn’t fallen quite so close to the London Marathon, Bryony might have survived the last few frantic weeks unscathed. 

But buoyed up by the fact that she and her running partner Jada managed to complete the 26.2-mile course in blistering heat without any immediately obvious physical fall-out, Bryony threw herself into her next terrifying challenge: a party for 40 of Edie’s closest friends.

I have to say that Bryony is higher than high on sobriety. Taking those toxins out of her system for eight whole months has given her an energy and an enthusiasm  for life that is, well, positively childlike. 

So it wasn’t surprising that she went over the top for a children’s birthday party.

Quite apart from the fact that there were two cakes (one a pink unicorn, the other a blue spaceship), there were also two bouncy castles (‘the fairy one for the girls and the other one for the boys,’ as Edie, who refuses to adapt to the concept of gender-fluidity, commented).

In addition to a sumptuous M&S feast, a professional face-painter, and personalised eco-friendly paper party bags, Bryony had also chosen the most child-friendly venue you can imagine (apart perhaps from Disney World): the ridiculously fabulous One O’Clock Club in the heart of south-west London’s nappy valley

The 40-odd guests had a thrilling time playing in the grounds, which contained a whole terrace of chic Wendy houses, around 20 tricycles with trailers and a fully equipped miniature café. It all went wonderfully well until Bryony rounded all the children up for a game of pass-the-parcel (she had spent hours wrapping 40 layers of paper, each one containing a novelty pencil, around the magnificent final present).

With Harry in charge of the music (Bryony’s favourite Happy by Pharrell Williams on a loop) every child at the party was a winner.

Apart, that is, from Bryony, whose wild dancing during the game followed by an enthusiastic burst on the bouncy castle, on top of her recent 26.2 mile run, would lead her, some hours later, to the GP.

Bryony Gordon

Reading Mum’s column, I feel I come across as a dreadful show-off. Party for 40 (there are 30 children in Edie’s class, and I have to invite the family); two bouncy castles (the company that hired them out advised on the number as each castle can only safely take eight children); face painter (the bouncy castle company offered a good deal on one).

It’s not even as if this is anything out of the ordinary: I have literally copied (down to the bouncy castle company) the party of the previous child in Edie’s class to have a birthday. We are now well over halfway through reception year and I am all out of original party ideas. 

I have a theory that the body holds out as long as it needs to, and five minutes before the end of Edie’s fifth birthday was as long as it needed to. Jumping up and down on the bouncy castle – impact-free exercise that’s good for the joints, or so I am told by the bouncy castle company – I am suddenly aware of a searing pain in my chest.

It feels like I have smoked several packets of cigarettes (I haven’t). It feels like I have been winded.

I crawl off, start to pack up and hand out party bags to overexcited children, ignoring the pain in my chest. I have run a marathon. Actually, I have run two. Surely, I can lug some presents to the car without collapsing? At home, once we have managed to get Edie to sleep, I realise how battered I feel. I am exhausted, and it hurts to breathe. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep don’t help. 

Anxious, I arrange an appointment with the work doctor for first thing Monday morning. The GP listens to my chest and tells me everything sounds fine. ‘My only explanation for the pain is that you have pulled a muscle in that area. Have you been doing any vigorous exercise recently?’

Bryony Gordon and Jada Sezer pose for a photo ahead of participating in The Virgin London Marathon on April 22, 2018 - Credit: Tim P. Whitby /Getty
Bryony and Jada Sezer pose for a photo ahead of participating the London Marathon on April 22, 2018 Credit: Tim P. Whitby /Getty

‘I ran a marathon in my bra,’ I say, very matter-of-factly.

‘That’ll do it,’ he nods. ‘You should rest for the remainder of the week.’

‘Is that a doctor’s order?’ I ask.

‘It is,’ he replies. And I let out a little whoop, careful not to injure myself any more.

Read last week’s column: Am I having an early mid-mothering crisis?

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