When I got home on Friday after work, Damien had already started tidying up- he was very excited about his birthday party! The lounge was a little neater than usual, and he had even tidied a little of the kitchen!
We pretty much celebrated all weekend long, starting on Friday night with supper at Pappas in Sandton, which was fantastic. There was a bellydancer too, and whilst I was hoping she’d try to get the knucklehead to dance with her or something, she just danced at our table and then posed for a photo with him. I wish I had gotten a picture of him sticking a R20 note in her “bra” thingy!
We weren’t home too late as we had an early start planned for Saturday.
Saturday morning, after stopping at Glugster’s office, we rented some chairs, a table, and some black tablecloths. I also found some black serviettes with “Happy 18th Birthday” written on them in silver. When we got home- the maid had not arrived! Oh joy!! Damien however, had outdone himself. He cleaned the pool, cleaned off the porch, and when we got home he blew up balloons and put up the birthday banner I found. Then we put out the extra chairs and table with the black tablecloths covering them- and I informed Damien that since he was now apparently a grown up and it was his party- that he had to make sure his guests are looked after and the chip bowls are full and such. Everyone wore all or mostly black for his birthday braai, since that’s his thing, and he was rather chuffed about it. My daddy darling had prepared a speech, but when he got up to say it he got all choked up and all he could say was that he was stepping down as Damien’s “father” and becoming his grampa. Then it was the knucklehead’s turn, and though he hadn’t prepared anything he managed to say a few words with some prompting from his guests.
Thank you to everyone who celebrated my boy’s birthday with us. I really loved having everyone there with us. He got some fantabulous pressies and made a fair bit of money- which he has now decided he wants to use to get his first tattoo. I was hoping he’d wait a while before getting ink, but he’s fairly determined, so we’ll be off to the tattoo place this weekend if we get a chance.
He’s really very funny when he drinks- he gets really loud, a little like Damien on no meds. He also suddenly seemed to think he could use whatever language he wanted and was swearing like a sailor! I told him a couple of times to cool it on the F-bomb! Thankfully he’s not a mean or argumentative drunk. And believe me, he drank on Saturday! I got a big hug from him during the course of the evening and he told me he was having a great time. He alternated with Smirnoff Spins and Black Labels from 2PM onwards, and at about 8ish he was fed a suitcase, a “springbokkie” and an Aftershock (which tastes like a fireball)… Then at about 9PM he disappeared into the back garden to call “george”… heh heh. He disappeared upstairs shortly afterwards, and he threw up several times in the night. I think this saved him from the worst of a possible hangover though, because on Sunday he was relatively okay apart from a thirst.
On Sunday he was taken out for a pub lunch by his godmother, and whilst he enjoyed it- she said he only had 2 sips of his beer and asked for a coke instead, heh heh.
There’s a whole set of photos from the party and the weekend on this Flickr link!