It’s safe to say we haven’t had the best weekend, although neither of us can pinpoint exactly why. Do you ever wake up on Saturday full of enthusiasm for the day ahead, and then something changes (usually a child loses their shit) and suddenly you’re chasing your tail all day?
I think my husband and I tend to fall into the trap of thinking we have pure, undiluted free time in which to both leisurely enjoy the weekend, project manage children, and get some jobs done. This weekend, we wanted to:
- Clean the car
- Get some bags of hand-me-down clothes down from the loft as Moo looks like a bloody street kid in half summer / half winter clobber
- Buy myself a new bag, just because (er, I totally do not need any more bags)
- Skype our friends in America
- Make a cake
- Collect some conkers, twigs and autumn shizz for Mouse’s latest nursery activity
- Have a takeaway and a blog-free evening
We managed to Skype, bake and eat, but everything was rushed and we both swore quite a bit. Not directly at the children, of course (nervous eye shift).
In the middle of all the “why did we ever have fucking children because we can’t EVER GET ANYTHING DONE!”, we decided to head to the park. Not one of the six perfectly nice parks within walking distance, oh no. We drove 6 miles to a Country Park and paid a few quid for the privilege (parking + emergency coffee + carton of strawberry milk that remained largely unconsumed). Both children fell asleep on the way there and so after parking up, my husband and I had a jolly good exasperated whinge in muted tones before the big child stirred.
Then Mouse went on the zip wire and squealed with glee. Then Moo had a swing and made this face. Then I caught my husband’s eye and we love them, we love them, we love them.
P.S. Totally got a new bag.