With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Certainly never a quiet one… Buggy Blogger mum to J (4), B (3) and S (1) throws a soggy sandwich and chaotic cake party.

'It's my party and I'll cry if I want to'. This appeared to be B's mantra ahead of his birthday bash this weekend. Well OK he didn't dissolve into all-out tears but his face was long and it looked as though he was going to be a somewhat reluctant party boy.

Was he nervous at the prospect of being the centre of attention or just picking up mummy's pre-party stress vibe? Though these events usually turn out all right on the night, I confess I was feeling a little harassed up front.

Things had got off to a shaky start when we discovered the hired room's heating was woefully inadequate. Outside it was cold and chucking it down. Inside we weren't much warmer or dryer. We set things up with icy hands, wearing our coats. We discovered rather late that the kitchen window wasn't watertight - unfortunate given we'd lined up the plates of now rather soggy sandwiches on the windowsill. We then realised the tea-urn had gone AWOL so no pick-me-up cuppa either. Blimey, not a fortuitous start to proceedings.

Luckily things soon began to warm up. We cranked up the plug-in electric heaters to full tilt and Daddy procured an emergency kettle ready to do sterling service throughout. Meanwhile the boys started running around bursting balloons, filching sausages and generally getting hyped up. All this before the first guest had arrived.

And then the cake-trashing incident happened. While I was occupied swabbing rainwater off the sandwiches, B was busy too. The requested 'horsey' cake I’d spent not inconsiderable time making was a sugary work of art: Cadbury Finger perimeter fence, a Curly Wurly jump, green desiccated coconut grass, 'Happy Birthday B' icing and a small toy pony on top. Perfect. Well, it was until B got hold of the horse and took it for a clip clop round the field. Before I knew it, the paddock had become a hoof-cratered quagmire, the icing writing was in tatters and the pile of artfully arranged toasted coconut 'hay' had been scattered around looking more like trails of manure. Never had a more authentic pony paddock been created.

No time for recriminations however. The clock struck the appointed hour and the guests started pouring in. In spite of the pre-match nerves and cake desecration, the party eventually went off with a swing. More balloons were burst, Grandpa wowed the crowds joining in 'Happy and You Know it' and the kids cheerfully ignored the sodden sandwiches and did what they always do at party teas – put a Hula Hoop on every finger and think they're the cleverest wag in town.

And what of B? Well, I'm happy to report that by the time we'd forged on to singing Happy Birthday he was lapping it all up. His face positively beamed as we sung to him – did he decide being at the centre of things was great fun after all, glowing proudly alongside his self-personalised cake? Or was it just that he was finally warming up with food is his tum and some heat coming off the candles?

Whatever the case, a jolly good time was eventually had. And the highlights? J doing a 'Twinkle twinkle' karaoke spot. Nana dancing the Teletubbies theme tune with S. B grinning like a Cheshire cat, blowing out all 3 of his candles with aplomb. Oh and locking the doors at the end, going home and putting my feet up of course.

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• Members' tips for children's birthday parties