The weekend in our house is a bit like a maze of land-mines, something to be navigated around carefully, avoid explosions and make it out in one piece. For a start the husband now has this strange thing/obsession called "Time for me" which means time without the kids and now has to be shoe horned into every Saturday or Sunday or sometimes both. I understand it because I occasionally need "Time for me" to do a food shop...seriously you have no idea the luxury involved walking around Asda just by yourself, without someone inches away crying and pulling huge jars of mayonnaise off the passing shelves. Its kind of like thinking of 60 different things, answering 3 different questions and being hit in the face all at once. Anyway as I started to forget most of the items on the list and rice, spaghetti hoops with curry powder isn't as appetising as it sounds for a meal, it was agreed a while back the food shops are now done alone. I also need "Time for Me" to do the marathon task that is our washing, once a week (at least) there is no clean underwear for anyone, or the ironing basket is so full it risks crushing me or the enormous piles of clothes which have been abandoned at some point probably to save one of my children's lives have blurred and I'm not sure what's clean, dirty or drying. Sometimes its all three, but a good hour or so uninterrupted is needed of sniffing, sorting and deciding what REALLY needs to be ironed as I tell the husband to just not take his jumper off at work; I've saved time on his work shirt and only done the collar! I also need some "TFM" to get my haircut every 6 weeks (months) but I'm not clear on the rules here because apparently when he goes for a trim every 2 weeks, which also takes about an hour...why don't barbers just book appointments too?!... its not classed as "Time for Me".....
Anyway I get it but as we have children now I long ago accepted that weekends are not ours any more and I look at the weekends as...well first I check how many birthday party's we have to go to....also a major bone of contention as the LSD induced like trip of a room full with screaming fighting kids, high on cake and of late all singing "Let it Goooo" with a giant snowman dawdling about, is apparently enjoyed much more by Mums than Dads?! We still haven't got to the bottom of this, but the point is, that is now our weekend, endless kids party's with a bottle of wine and pub Sunday lunch if we are very lucky and we plan in a nap with a few hours starvation for the boys first so they will actually sit for more than 15mins and eat their food. The husband I feel has other ideas though his weekend is still pre kids but he will fit us in where he can...most kind. Just yesterday we had a long discussion about what we would do today as didn't have anything on but he had to squeeze in his important "TFM" not the type doing things that keep the house ticking over but going to the gym or the pub, however a Gruffalo walk was dismissed for being too far away, Soft play unless it is snowing....heavily... is a swear word to the him ,we have visited most museums already on this horrific winter and his suggestion actually always his ONLY suggestion of going swimming went down in flames with me as I couldn't be bothered to shave my entire body AND get my fresh blow dry wet....we are as bad as each other to be fair. Somewhere deeeep inside we think one day the Grandparents ...or anyone really...will offer to have the boys overnight and we will wake up in peace, have a long lie in, breakfast and the papers in bed, overdose on Netflicks and then when we are sick go and get sozzled next to a roaring country pub fire. That's the type of old weekend that haunts us to this ha ha.
We managed though after a hostage like negotiation to agree that we would walk somewhere, once we could find...like Goldilocks and the 3 bloody bears ...a place not too cold, long, muddy and pram friendly for emergency's. Then I took to Twitter and asked for the best Sunday Lunch in the North East recommendations: Vallum Farm, Bistro 62 and The Botanist if you're interested. So we were sorted. Then this morning.....
Husband: What do you want to do today?
Me: Are you serious?... I thought we were going for a walk and a pub lunch?
H: I didn't say that. Where are you thinking?
Me: *Stunned, reel of twitter recommendations*
H: *Casual as anything* Well I don't want to go far. I fancy going to the allotment for a couple of hours, getting dinner on the go at home, ready for the match 2-4pm.....
Me: *What match?!* Umm Ok I will get the kids in their garden clothes, but there is nothing in as were supposed to be going out so who is going to buy and cook this roast?
H: Ah no, I want to go to the allotment alone (see "Time for Me) the kids are trashing the plants.
Me: What about dinner?
H: When I come home we can walk to the shop *how exciting* for something and I will cook?
*I seriously cant be bothered to cook today but I would rather that than all the inevitable mess, questions and help needed from Mr 'Use every pot pan and plate' to make toast.*
Me: OK so after you have a morning alone at the Allotment, *that we only got as a project for the kids, but the kids are now not allowed to go to* then we have all walked to the Supermarket and done a food shop with the kids (wtf), what will the kids be doing while you cook this meal AND watch the football?
H: Watching the football with me...*Even though they don't sit for an episode of Pepper Pig*
Me: ...And what about the Dinner if you're watching the Football?!
H: I will just whack it all in the oven it will only take 10minutes, ready when the football is over.....
Me: *Face like a scream mask*
Just Kill Me. Kill me now.
Holding very tightly onto this quote.