Aren’t weekends great? All that time with your family, no work commitments. Just people you love, good food, great music, getting outdoors and chilling out.
Which moron wrote that script? I want them here now for a good talking to and a very hard stare. Last weekend was conjunctivitis and hastily rearranged trampolining plans. This weekend was going to be different. It was going to be relaxed. Some light shopping, good cooking, family time. So far, we’ve had monkeys kicking seven bells out of each other, spotted a case of nits, got soaked on an aborted dog walk and discovered the fridge freezer had given up the ghost spoiling a fridge load of food. As I’m writing this the dog is trying to eat the dining table and middle monkey, who has become obsessed by times tables, is telling me what 17 x 5 is. Glorious.
It really kicked off yesterday morning when smallest monkey complained of an itchy head. Investigations concluded that yes, it was headlice and the beloved ventured out in the snow to find a cure. Mild chemical warfare ensued as the entire family was treated, including my Mum. Having to walk around covered in what I declared to be flea powder was not my finest moment.
Today, the fridge freezer decided it had had enough of us and issued its last ear-piercing bleeps. The smell is not gorgeous, we have bendy frozen chips and our entire weeks menu plan is goosed. Trying to research fridge freezers while your husband is swearing in the kitchen, your Mum is on the phone to her sister forging what I can only believe are escape plans, an over keen middlest monkey testing herself on her 11 times table, the smallest monkey is drawing pictures of cats she will never own and the dog is reminding you that you have not fed him because you may or may not have nearly run out of food is challenging. The only person being quiet is the eldest monkey who is working quietly on her smartphone addiction.
Once a new fridge freezer was ordered, the dog was given leftover bacon and eggs, I’d told my Mum she couldn’t move out and I’d judged cats and sums, I lay on the living room floor and shouted wibble. The dog then sat on my head, much to the hilarity of the household.
So when life gets on your pip, give up, lie on the floor, have a shout and wait until the dog stops biting your ears. I promise you’ll feel better.