Grumpy home 20 minutes later than promised so that I might go out for a bit, kid free, husband free and have a coffee with my friend.
Eventually made it and has the most enjoyable 2 hours I’ve had of late. Coffee, chat, dips and more chat. No whinging (no one whinging at us, obviously). No sharing (well, we shared the dips, but that’s ok). Just relaxed and … lovely. So lovely, we didn’t even need dessert.
How is it that when you’re home with the kids, either trying to get them organised and out of the house in the morning, or unable to do anything due to clingy, whingy child attached to your leg/left breast that two hours seems to drag on for something like 4 months, yet when you’re taking a Mental Health Break it’s over in less than 13 minutes?
That doesn’t sound right to me.
I arrive home. The LEGO saga continues to do fact that Grumpy has been playing Enemy Tanks with kids watching, therefore, not only has no one bothered to look for missing LEGO man, but also that Chippie was mostly unsupervised and managed to remove the entire top half of the coast guard tower and throw it across the room.
Leading to … ta da, perfect timing … yelling and crying at mere seconds before I walked in the door. Even my “But didn’t I tell you last night to build the tower somewhere out of his reach” logical discussion did nothing.
And then they wanted me to cook them dinner.
But why? Why should I? I know that I’d planned and organised what we were having, but I was so full after having dips and bread and great conversation that I wasn’t hungry.
Therefore, just like when I’m cold and they