Last weekend I took my 3 daughters to a special birthday party. It was to celebrate the 18th birthday of one of my husband's cousins' children but my husband is overseas and my son was working so it was just us girls. It took a bit longer to get there than I'd expected so, as usual, we were fashionably late (only 45 minutes though, which is actually quite good for us)!

The party was in a cricket pavilion and when we arrived, despite it being 8pm and pitch dark, there were children playing on the field outside as music and laughter spilled through the open windows. The walk from the carpark to the pavilion was along an unlit path, we weren't certain we were in the right place, we were late and anticipated being strangers to most of the other guests (I hadn't seen the birthday girl and most of her family since we moved abroad when she was 3) so we were all a little nervous as we approached. About halfway along the path we bumped, quite literally, into my husband's uncle, who'd seen us arrive and come to welcome us. As I gushed my apologies he gave me the warmest smile, hugged each of the girls and then escorted us into the party to meet everyone. Within minutes we'd been introduced, plied with food & drink, and for the rest of the evening we were actively included in conversations and in-jokes. Much later I was standing at the bar talking to the birthday girl's uncle, my daughters outside chatting to other guests while waiting to for their turn to play swingball, when he congratulated me on having such lovely 'down-to-earth' girls. When I smiled and asked why they wouldn't be he said "well, they haven't exactly had a normal life, have they?"

My children have spent a lot of time learning to fit-in; over the last 6 years we've moved countries twice and they've attended 8 different schools between them. As I looked around me at the tables decorated with professional-looking arrangements of confetti-filled balloons and bowls of colour-matched sweets, the gorgeous three-tier cake surrounded by bakery-perfect cupcakes and the photomontages of the birthday girl scattered around the room, it was clear that a lot of time and love had gone into making this event perfect. Apart from putting me to shame over my son's 18th, which we'd quietly celebrated at home because his friends and his dad were on another continent, it made me realise how varied our experiences have been. One of the last big birthday celebrations we'd been to was my middle daughters' schoolfriend's 7th birthday party. It was an Alice in Wonderland themed event and the invitation was in the form of a personalised storybook. The party took place in the garden of the family home and younger guests entered through an inflatable rabbit hole in the centre of a ten-metre long decorated screen while parents and nannies walked around. A variety of manned stalls offering candyfloss, toffee apples, cupcakes, ice-cream, popcorn and drinks were placed around the edge of what would normally be the circular driveway; several tables in the centre offered craft activities like decorating real teapots, cups, and top-hats and on the other side of the driveway was a full-size stage complete with backdrop, ready for the 'Alice in Wonderland' live show. Spread throughout the rest of the garden were an amusement park of rides including a train, fairground carousel, three inflatable assault courses, bucking bronco and a temporary boating pool with child-sized rowing boats. It was a spectacular childhood wonderland.

Compared to some, my children have had a very privileged life so far; compared to others, not so much. I suppose they're the young people they are because of, and in spite of, mine and my husband's decisions and actions so I was touched by the compliment. And I'm full of admiration for my kids - finding common ground for a brief conversation at a party is one thing, but repeatedly building friendships from scratch whilst navigating the ups and downs of childhood is something else entirely. I don't know if it was the swingball or the abundance of sugar and treats but, in the car on the way home, my eldest daughter looked at me thoughtfully, smiled and said "So they're our family. That's cool!".