Monday Night Pizza Club
I have perhaps twenty minutes to write this before my other half returns home, and the house descends into chaos once more. Since returning home from work on Friday night I have been single handed with the younger children. Washing their clothes, picking up after them, feeding them, reading to them, watching movies with them, playing board games with them, and simply hanging out with them.
It's been fun. Hard work, but fun. They've had their moments – fighting like cat and dog – but on the whole it's been good. They just put themselves to bed with the promise that their Mum will tuck them in when she gets home. I can't imagine they will be awake for more than the next ten minutes.
We ordered Dominos for dinner tonight. A card arrived in the mail from our youngest's school – an award from the head teacher for effort and achievement. She thinks the food was to celebrate her award – the reality was that I couldn't be bothered to cook. If nobody tells her, everything will be fine.
I'm sitting in the lounge on my own while writing this – YouTube is playing music videos back to back on the TV, and the dining table is stacked with piles of clean, folded washing.
Ok. Excited shouting from upstairs. My other half has just pulled into the drive.
(half an hour passes)
The house is trashed again. Bags everywhere. Piles of washing everywhere. Excitable children that were in bed now up, and very much awake. Other half is already shouting at them, because of course they now won't get up tomorrow, and of course they will “say” they are poorly, rather than get out of bed in 10 hours time.
Let's try to forget that I'll be getting up at 5:30 tomorrow. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get up tomorrow at 5:30am, but I will. I'll also wake up 5 minutes before the alarm goes off – I'm not sure how that works. Expect an emormously long and monotonous essay about my forgettable journey north, and the amazing hotel restaurant experience to be posted in about 24 hours time.p, li { white-space: pre-wrap; }