I haven’t had the most relaxing of weekends, not that I want you to feel sorry for me mind. Saturday had more than a few overtones of epic fantasy about it really. We had a bold party of adventures (me, wifey, the boy and fifi), some atrocious weather and a quest. I didn’t think the quest itself was going to be that epic but it turned out to be so.
All we really wanted to do on Saturday was get some passport photos done for the kids. I had my worries about how cooperative the boy was going to be, what with being dragged out in the rain and everything but he sat still and compliantly gave the chap at Snappy Snaps his best belligerent look, which just so happened to fit exactly with the passport guidelines of not smiling and looking like going abroad is a real trial you just don’t want to do.
Fifi on the other hand just simply didn’t want to have her picture taken. Sobbing, shouting and refusing to look at the camera, we had 3 visits to the shop with lunch in between to no avail. in the end, no amount of cajoling or threats of being left at the wrong Nana’s house sufficed and it came down to letting her sit on the stool with an open bag of Pom Bah crisps on her lap.
Needless to say she fell asleep in the car on the way to do some more shopping.
Yesterday should have been easier since I had the two of them indoors for the day whilst wifey went to the Tesco Mum of the year awards to be told by Emma Forbes that she read her Being a Mummy blog and liked it, as well as seeing some inspirational women win awards. Wifey looked radiantly lovely when she set off, no doubt enthused by a day of peace and quiet.
By the end of the day, every single toy that we have ever owned was littering the floor; I had been punched quite hard in the face by an aggravated two year old who didn’t want to eat her dinner but wanted to survive on a diet of yoghurt and Ikea biscuits; been repeated told off by the two year olds older brother who sticks up for her no matter what; watched my team lose in the cup final but missed most all the goals due to excessive toilets visits intended to make me miss the football as punishment for putting it on in the first place; and finally failed to get either of them in the bath as they double teamed me.
It would have been easier if we hadn’t been up half the night being kicked in the back by the boy who had suffered a nightmare (presumably he’d been dreaming that there was no one for him to annoy).
Still, wifey reappeared during bath time and showed why for our two she’ll always be mum of the year. And wife of the year for me!