Cupcakes, darling

I had promised a friend, D., when we bumped into each other in Central that I would visit her over the weekend to help out with her children - and mentioned that it would be fun to make frosted cupcakes. D. was so excited about this she called me and Chinese Sad Associate at 9.30 a.m. on Sunday asking us when we would get there. Chinese Sad Associate, my friend from Seoul, M., and myself thus woke up before noon on a Sunday (sacrilegious, considering that we had been out clubbing until 2 a.m. the night before) to arm ourselves with a muffin tray and Nigella Lawson's 'The Domestic Goddess' before boarding the ferry to Discovery Bay, which is where D. lives.

We had been promised an excellent tomato soup and pastries. We did get the wonderful food that D. makes, but we also had to entertain her three children - two twin girls aged six and their little brother. It sounded easy at the beginning. As soon as we arrived the little girls told us they would put on a show for us and disappeared into their room in a mysterious manner. That left only the little boy so we took turns playing with him until lunch.

Then we sat through 'The Sea Creatchers [sic] Song Show' which was put on by the little girls. The songs mostly went in the following fashion - "Crabs/Fishis[sic]/Sharks are nice, but they bite, and I want them as pets" etc. - or sometimes - "Crabs/Fishis/Sharks are nice, and I have a family of them as pets, and then they went up to the sky" etc. etc. I couldn't help interjecting my views at intervals ("Chilled crab is excellent stuff - have you tried it?"), much to the chagrin of the little girls. After loudly applauding eight such songs, our hands and throats were sore from the clapping and cheering.

Then the little girls decided that Chinese Sad Associate and I needed a makeover. The first little girl decided she would make me "look like the most beautiful princess". This meant getting my hair wet and brushed in the wrong way, and then lots of glitter and lipstick were applied to my face. The second little girl told me that she would give me "a crazy hairstyle, but you'll get used to it after a while and then you'll like it". Chinese Sad Associate was made much of due to her doll-like features and long, flowing hair and had to put up with her hair being braided into two plaits on each side of her face. While Chinese Sad Associate and I were being thus transformed, M. was going up and down the house giving the little boy a piggyback ride and she later suffered from lower back pain as a result.

We also made chocolate and raspberry frosted cupcakes, which went down a storm (none were left by the end of the day and we had made twenty-four). So I guess it is not surprising that come five o'clock, the three of us were sprawled across the big leather sofas in D.'s living room in a state of complete and utter exhaustion while D. made us a strong coffee.
"How do you do it? Don't you get tired?" I asked D. when she gave me my cup.
"Of course I'm tired! I'm always tired!" she said,"but I'm completely and utterly in love with them. If I'm away from them for more than two hours, I am in physical pain. I get time to myself in snatches - an hour here and there - but that's what it's about, being a mother."
M. just had time to say "Wow" before being dragged off by the little boy again. Chinese Sad Associate was soon taken away by the little girls. D. and I flicked through trashy magazines for a little while, but in another five minutes, D. was up. I fell asleep for all of two minutes before being woken by tiny fingers tickling my armpits.