Our day started well. We ran some errands, the came home and blitzed the house in anticipation of the arrival of a number of BBQ guests. We passed a frankly super 4 hours munching on cremated halloumi and home made venison burgers.
Our 6 year old is in Ireland, so we are a bit light on kids, which helped the afternoon pass with reduced demands. As our friends left, one offered to take our four year old to the cinema and out for dinner. Here’s where I went wrong. Having graciously accepted, I began planning. Cushions out on the sofa down the garden. Novel. Glass of Chardonnay. I mean, with only two kids, these things must be possible. I got as far as getting the cushions out before the demands for dinner came. Cue pizza. As I served up, daddy came in and suggested that he might go out stalking (deer that is, not females who haven’t yet suffered the great boob sag). I made a face to which he said ‘oh, well I won’t go if you don’t want me to’. Ace, I thought. Wine in the sun, an Indian takeaway, and a 50;50 share in responding to the kids antics.
10 minutes later, daddy announced he is off to go stalking. Apparently, my upset face was not upset enough. I have just got the little
shits darlings to bed. So far, I have been up to retrieve a shark from down the side of a bed, unstick a twins leg, and mediate a fight over a small green Lego piece that they apparently both lay claim to.
I don’t have much wine. I don’t have an Indian. I made a toastie. Only, I had to go and fish a fucking Smurf out of the toilet while the toastie was cooking which resulted in it becoming frazzled. There is now an escaped chicken in the kitchen, and I fed the dog the toastie.
Best of all? The choice of TV. Judge Judy? OAP’s who kill (I mean what the fuck!) or My Overseas Hell. I have gone for the overseas one. Not that it matters because it sounds like there is wholesale ransacking going on upstairs so I will probably spend the next hour re-assembling the idea furniture which sounds like it has been collapsed.
Happy bank holiday peeps! 😊