Isn’t it ironic!

Still dealing with the summer holidays here – the 6 weeks where I try to juggle work, kids, house and having a life! Luckily for me I do have a mother who is lives a long way away.

You might think that is the wrong way round! After all, if she lived closer my mum could pop round during the week to interrupt me working with a cup of coffee or nag me on a daily basis about how messy my house is. How much more fun would that be!

But as it is, she lives a good 3 hour drive away, which works out marvelously in that she loves to have her grandchildren to stay and it’s too far for her to have them for anything less than a week.

So this weekend I took the drive down to my mum’s to drop the kids off for their annual holiday with Granny. They love it! They get a full week of Granny time – playing, trips out, being thoroughly spoilt and getting never ending attention. I meanwhile get a full week of a clean house, peaceful work time and some quality uninterrupted time with Mr G.

In theory.

Sackgirl and Botboy

Sackgirl and Botboy

We got back from dropping the kids off on Sunday night – a long drive home. For the last few weeks I’ve been woken up by Botboy shouting

Mummy. Wipe my bum. Mummy.  I had a poo!

I don’t really enjoy starting my day, bleary eyed, at 7am wiping poop out of bottoms. It’s a parenting necessity, I get that. But how has he trained his digestive system to a 7am start – that’s what i want to know.

So I was looking forward to starting Day 1 of No Children Allowed week with a lie in. A gentle wake up. A stretch in the warm soft sunshine peeking through my curtains. Maybe birdsong in the distance.

What I got was

Mmmmwwwwwoooooooaaaaaawwwwwww

As my cat let me know, at full volume, that she needed to talk to me. I shot awake – I know that sound. That is the sound of an elderly cat with a dodgy digestive system needing to go. Now!

I dashed out of bed, it’s still pitch black. I flick on the stair light, slide down the stairs, pick up the cat, run to the back door . . .  I cant find the key. I run to the front door, angry cat with stomach ache growling at the less than gentle handling. I knock the bolt, throw the cat out, turn around . . . and the smell of fresh cat shit hits me!

spook

I started my day at 5am cleaning the outcome of dodgy cat digestive production from the living room carpet – without my glasses on, thus adding an extra aura of hazard to an already disgusting task.

I finally got back to bed and back to sleep, only to wake up to a cacophony of barking as the Morning Dog Walk crew arrived. Yup, I overslept. My gentle wake up binned, I ended up rushing outside to catch up with one sock on and no coat – while the rain threw down in bucketfuls.

Let’s speed through the part of the day where, instead of my peaceful work time, I ended up at the vets discussing the best way to remove a half chewed plastic lolly stick from the throat of an idiot beagle (2nd visit in a fortnight. The vet called my dog a ‘Known Foreign Body Swallower‘! Is this what it feels like to have the child at school who has the reputation for being the troublemaker?) Said idiot beagle is spending the night at the vets under observation following anaesthetic, x-rays and various superbly expensive probes have been inserted into her body!

Bagel

Finally Mr G came home from work and we settled down to enjoy the first evening of No Children Allowed week. We decided on dinner, we sorted the evening entertainment (Behave!) and . . .  we got a phone call from the neighbour.

I am currently typing this from my neighbour’s couch, babysitting her youngest, while she is at A&E with her eldest who now has a large chunk of her thigh missing and a greater understanding of the mechanics of gravity and the importance of testing the strength of the branch before sitting on it. I have been here for 4 hours. Mr G is at home, in bed. Alone.

Ironic!

 

About Piper George

Wife, mother, puppy chaser extraordinaire. Freelance copy-writer and blogger! Life is full of opportunities - it's having the time to grab them that's hard.

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Isn’t it ironic! — 7 Comments

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