Friends

Parties used to mean something very different to me. As a child, they signalled friends, novelty cakes and party games. As a teenager, they were all about friends, experimental make-up and desperately trying to get a snog. As a student, they featured friends, cheap white wine and grotty houses. In my twenties, parties equalled friends, an attempt at cooking a half-edible meal and some 'hilarious' board games. And now, as a parent, parties are full of friends, teeny-tiny sandwiches and renditions of 'The wheels on the bus'.

Dexter turns two next month: cue party season. The husband and I chose to attend NCT classes while I was heavily pregnant. Yes, we wanted to hear about natural birth. And yes, we did at some point have contact with a knitted boob. But mainly, we wanted to meet other soon-to-be parents and develop a social network of families with children of a similar age.

We were so lucky. Our NCT teacher was fab; the lengthy classes brightened up dull, wintry Sunday evenings; but best of all, we met really, really lovely people. Two years on, as our bumps have turned into rambunctious toddlers, reunions like today, make me feel like a very lucky lady.

This morning's fantastically organised party contained crafting, singing, disco dancing, play-dough and sandwiches in the shape of ducks, and of course, friends. We went from the morning's party to a lunch date at another friend's house. No cooking for me today!

In many ways, I am quite a rubbish friend. I hide behind the excuses of working full-time, of being busy and simply there just not being enough hours in the day. I like to think I am loyal, supportive and considerate, but I could definitely make more of an effort to make the first move and instigate more regular contact with those I love dearly. Perhaps it's time for a (belated) new year's resolution to simply be a better friend. For as days like today prove, the rewards of friendship are certainly worth it.