When you’re child intolerant.
You know when you’re being really good and healthy, but you know you’re having a pizza take away delivered at the end of the week? You look forward to it all day Friday, planning what you’re going to have and then, when it is finally delivered, you eat it savouring every single mouth watering taste, knowing with each bite, that it’s not agreeing with you. Then the morning after you wake up in a dough hangover haze, swearing you’ll never eat take-away pizza again. Except, by Thursday, you’ve forgotten the bad stuff and are just thinking of that amazing stuffed crust taste washed down with a glass of wine, and can’t wait to do it all over again.
That’s how half term turned out.
I was looking forward to half term (shock horror), we had a nice week planned, a nice mixture of fun, play and relaxation. A week with the boys and time allocated to fit some work in, and time with my friends.
It started REALLY well. I mean, on Saturday we ditched the kids and this happened.
Monday however, didn’t start so well. In fact, this is pretty much the conversation that went on, all because we were going to the park.
It turned out ok in the end. “Celia” invited us back for lunch when it started to rain, then we came back and watched Harry Potter and snuggled on the sofa. CRISIS AVERTED.
Tuesday I worked all day – it was amazing – and had pizza to celebrate a friends birthday (I totally didn’t bloat though), and Wednesday…well. Wednesday, when you describe it was a nice day, a lovely day. When you describe it nothing seems all that bad, but after starting out so well, coffee, chat – ‘I could totally get used to this’ it all ended in tears. Mine.
We went bowling after the coffee and chat. Bowling, which we were all very excited about and should have been awesome, and it totally was…right up until The Chunky Monkey got his sleeve wet after washing his hands, and decided he’d had enough, we almost kept it under control until it was time to take his bowling shoes off.
It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with a public tantrum, one that I couldn’t divert with chocolate or numbers talk. In fact, I think the last one so public was in the supermarket where we spent 15 minutes of him lying on the floor screaming and attempting to trip every other passerby. I think it was because I wouldn’t let him cross the road when a car was coming.
After we got home from bowling, after the draining experience of being kicked in the face, of the planking, of the near successful run away mission into the car park, the crawling under the table, the arrogant battle on my part to make him put his coat on (HE WAS NOT GOING TO WIN), and the three time seatbelt unbuckle to which I shouted and my friends little girl broke the mood nicely by saying “wow…that was a bit loud…you scared me a little bit” (love her), after the car journey where I was planning my escape into the hills, even considering camping on my own, after we waved goodbye to my friend and her daughter where I was very self restrained and didn’t grab on to her leg and beg her to stay, after she drove off AND LEFT ME WITH THEM this happened.
Which of course meant, when they were both in bed..so did this.
By the time I woke up on Thursday morning, I was drained, as if I’d eaten two tones of pizza and topped it off with even more melted cheese (I hadn’t, we’d had a prawn curry), my buzz for half term had pretty much petered away. However, as our play date for the day was delivered in her onesie, my enthusiasm was recharged by the reveal of gingerbread men to decorate and the BRAVE DVD.
Admittedly, after a day with three children who decided to rebel against my ‘sofa day’ idea, by the time Mr Aimee had got home he discovered me a shrivelled wreck on the sofa, with two children sitting on me one enthralled in another Harry Potter and the other on the iPad, I was very relieved he was taking the next day off so I could work, even if he did feed them so many sweets that we nearly had to resort to a tying them to their beds to stop them bouncing off the ceiling. I was tired. Falling asleep on the sofa by 9pm most nights, and waking up in the need for sugar, I considered walking around with one of those hats which hold cans of coke and a straw. (I would love those, do they work with gin tins?)
Saturday was pretty much taken over by bike riding and tennis, although, a reluctant five year old was very aware that the holidays were nearly over, and we nearly had to resort of a trail of sugar and electrical goods up the stairs to lure him into his room and to bed, the more exhausted I got, the more full of beans and recharged he got.
Sunday was a quiet day, determined to ensure everyone was rested for the morning it resulted in some epic chocolate cake baking, swimming, pub lunch and movie afternoon, and as I tucked The Beast and The Chunk into bed, I was a little bit emotional when I knew it was back to the school routine the next day, so I came downstairs shredded (I TOTALLY DIDN’T PHONE IT IN), and then sat on the sofa flicking through pictures of the week thinking that actually, it wasn’t so bad, what do you think?
I mean…I think that I am even looking forward to the Easter holidays, what have I turned into?! Pass the gin.