BAT’S blood, tiger’s claw or frog’s skin? – it was the start of my mum’s best party trick.

After my birthday guests made their choice, she would then make a great show of pouring out clear lemonade into plastic cups resting on a tray while we looked on in amazement as the liquid turned red, yellow or green, depending on our answers. Ah, the magic of food colouring. Throw in a few sausage rolls, a fistful of crisps, some token carrot sticks, musical bumps and a parcel to pass, and my birthday party was sorted.

Year in year out, it followed a similar theme, and I always had a ball. So when did parties become so complicated?

Nowadays, children’s celebrations have become big business, and there is potential for there to be huge pressure on parents to come up with the perfect party. And it’s usually at an inflated cost.

On a certain social media site used by many York mums, I’ve noticed just within the last few weeks countless people appealing for advice and suggestions for party ideas, sometimes for children as young as one. Never mind the fact they’ll have forgotten the occasion a week later, why make such a huge and potentially expensive fuss?

Just put the music on, move any hard-edged obstacles that might cause injury, and invite friends with tots of a similar age around. Keep it short, keep it simple and pat yourself on the back at the end. Job done.

In my family, we’ve progressed from humble house parties with a handful of friends to community halls full of red-faced youngsters high on life, happily bursting balloons with their teeth, racing around and overheating in superhero costumes. And throwing the obligatory paddy – just because they can.

In the early years, I happily threw myself into the role of “party planner”, rounding up the young revellers to play age-old games before sending them on their way, sweaty and exhausted with a bag of sweets, squashed cake and plastic tat. I tended to sink down into my sofa at the end of the day with a glass of wine and smug, well-earned sense of achievement.

That all changed when I forgot to scrutinise the guest list one year and found myself trying to organise a hall full of at least 20 lively, slightly testing boys. My voice rose an octave to a painfully shrill pitch within the first hour, and by the end my husband and I pledged we’d never do it again.

But at least I didn’t lose my rag – as one children’s entertainer did at a party my son attended when the over-excited children chased the rotund magician around the hall, hanging on to the back of his colourful satin waistcoat until he shouted that he’d charge the birthday boy’s mum £60 if they ripped it. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to mentally cross him off our list of party people to hire.

The following year we gave in and opted for soft play hell. There was no sense of personal achievement afterwards; you simply turn up, state your name, and then leave them to run riot, lose their socks in the ball pool, bump heads in a tunnel, get told off for ascending rather than descending the slide, and then fill up on carbs and deep-fried food. The only sense of satisfaction was that we didn’t have to do anything more taxing than turn up with a cake – and that the birthday boy loved it, of course.

Over the years my sons have been to dozens of parties between them, as wide ranging as make-your-own pizzas in an Italian restaurant to car racing, woodland bushcrafts and climbing. And these are fairly mainstream compared to many of the options now available, which also include tea parties at plush hotels most people would normally only frequent for a special anniversary.

It begs the question: Are we giving too much too soon?

My youngest has just turned seven and his big passion is football. It seems so simple: a field, a ball, someone with a clue about the game, and then somewhere dry where we can serve up food.

But I had to make numerous phone calls, chase far too many people and send countless emails before we got it sorted, resisting the very strong urge to just give up and give in and hand over a big cheque to a commercial outfit to take control.

The big day is tomorrow and I’m now praying it goes to plan and the boys enjoy it. We’ve teamed up with my son’s friend, whose birthday is a week later, and hired a sports hall, asked a football coach we know for help, and chosen the food and party bag fillers. There might even be a medal or two in the offing. And a glass of vino for me.