Sunday Afternoon
After a Sunday morning standing in the cold on the touchline of a rugby pitch for two hours, stamping my feet and making conversation with other parents, I'm now home, sipping tea, and half-listening to the rather random playlist Alexa has decided I like. Miss 18 and Miss 13 have gone to watch a football match, and Miss 14 is upstairs somewhere pretending to play video games, but actually watching a stready stream of YouTube videos we would much rather she did not.
The washing machine is rumbling away, the clothes dryer is filling the house with hot air, the bar heater is on in the kitchen, and the lounge curtains are already closed – all in the hope of trapping a little warmth in the house. Kaspar is curled up in his cat-bed – his nose tucked into his own tail – enormous green eyes looking around the room from time to time.
The overwhelming feeling is one of tiredness – and yet it's already Sunday evening. Where did the weekend go? In a few hours I'll be washing up again, fighting a losing battle to put things away the children have thrown everywhere, and starting to put things back into my work backpack for the week ahead. Transitioning from the holidays back into work and school life is a bit jarring at the best of times – this year it seems even more difficult than usual. Perhaps it's because we didn't really go anywhere or do anything at Christmas – we hung out at home for the most part. It's amazing how much nothing you can fill the day with when you put your mind to it – and how steep a climb even the most trivial tasks seem like when you've forgotten how busy you usually are.
Here's hoping the week ahead is filled with rational people, straightforward tasks, no stress, and no arguments. Of course we know it's not going to happen, but we can hope, right?