On Saturday, Ziggy, our baby, turned two years old.
As was the case with Luca, following an epic first birthday celebration, we had decided to go low-key with this one.
I have been pregnant for both of their 2nd birthdays which helps to make the 'low-key' decision an easy one.
But with Luca, I was organised enough to arrange a birthday weekend getaway to the coast with some close friends.
This time around, for Zig, I had planned exactly nothing.
Saturday dawned grey, sheets of rain falling, constant and heavy, dampening everything including enthusiasm to go on what I'd imagined might be a spontaneous birthday adventure.
A play centre, which had been high on the agenda dropped dramatically to the bottom as Bren and I contemplated just how many little bodies would already be packed inside on this rainy, rainy day.
Likewise, discovering a new park was completely erased from the itinerary.
Instead, I ventured to the local shopping centre to rustle up some treats and hopefully, a birthday cake.
I'd woken with a sore throat and pushing through the insane crowds (no doubt fuelled by Christmas and bad weather) for pastries and a novelty cake almost finished me.
I returned home to a very tired little two-year-old who just managed to eat half a donut before falling asleep in my arms.
The birthday boy spent the afternoon playing with his new toys and being loved to death by not one but both of his grandmothers.
But after we had cut the supermarket-bought cake and the family were seated around the dinner table enjoying take away Thai for dinner, I lay my sick and weary body on the couch and sobbed.
I couldn't help but feel the tremendous weight that is mother guilt – that I planned nothing, that we did nothing and that instead of making the train cake I had bought the mould for and everything, I'd hastily disguised the fact that most of the icing had come away when I'd removed the lid from this $3.20 sponge.
I couldn't help but feel like our little man deserved so much more.
Of course, I am smart enough to know that the excitement of the last few days (visiting grandparents, presents, attention!) has meant that to little Zig, it has felt like a non-stop party; that a two-year-old expects nor needs much else.
But mother guilt was never based on logic, was it?
Happy 2nd Birthday, darling Ziggy. If it's any consolation, history shows I throw an awesome birthday party for three-year-olds.