Every single day, I question how the hell no one has taken my children away from me yet. Mostly because my parenting skills are diabolical, and I shout a lot, and have been known to feed them crap, and sometimes I’m a smart mouth with them when they ask one too many questions (which, of course, is all the time). Yet however, they are still alive, and even more astonishing is the fact that Noah made it to his 5th birthday last week.

I confess I patted myself on the back by drinking a bottle of Champagne, amazed with the sheer fact that I have made it this far without major disaster.

Which I’m pretty sure is imminent.

So, happy birthday kiddo. I love you a whole shit load, and I know for a fact I should say it to you more often, but I guess that’s what comes with being a bit of a crap mom. But you already know it though, right? I think the very fact that, one of the biggest presents you wanted for your birthday, was a cake with a picture of your family on it (which I didn’t get to do, and even though you said it’s ok if it doesn’t work because at least I tried {I did try}, you made things even better by saying it was ok because I could just take a photo of the 4 of us anyway, and you could have it from my polaroid and keep it with you).

I did that for you, but I hope you don’t mind that I put it in a tiny little frame for you, because then you can keep it on the unit downstairs and see it all the time. And that’s cool too, because it’s right next to your favourite place to play.

I hope you had an ace birthday; opening presents at home, lunch at Grandma and Granddad’s house, and then the Sea Life Centre the next day (you asked to go to an aquarium, and Daddy and I were over the MOON because we’d already planned the day out when you asked to go).

I love you, Noah. x