The rugrats are away for the weekend - with daddy - without me!
I'm not sure whether to be excited or petrified that daddy is in charge with his daddy for a weekend!
One side of me is silently planning all the things I'm going to love being on my own for the weekend, the other side of me is talking myself out of envisaging all the possible and potential mishaps for three kids and two grown men to get into over the course of a weekend at the beach such as:
Digging one or other child into the sand and then forgetting where they were buried.
Getting carried away making a dam that they forget the tide coming in and get stranded
Losing one or other rugrat on the tram or in the awful Madame Tussards - actually, scrap the latter -he might not always be focused, but he has got taste and I don't expect they'll pay a visit there!
One or other - probably the middle one, falling the several thousand feet to the ground from the top of the Blackpool tower or some equally freaky roller coaster accident at the pleasure beach.
A death defying donkey disaster that renders a child unconscious.
Oh the list goes on....
I'm staying behind because my mama hasn't had her baby. She was due Thursday, so I'm kind of hoping for a birth this evening or early tomorrow, but we all know that babies only come when they're ready, so that will probably scupper that idea;
so the other half of me is creating the list of what I won't miss:
The endless bickering and screeching - "but we're only playing a game mum!" yeah - right!
The endless mess all over the floor when they deliberately, in their cunning, come along behind me tipping out again what I've just put away.
The continual whining about what's for breakfast/lunch/snack/second breakfast/dinner/supper and then when it's served the further whining about the fact I've served the one vegetable they don't like.
The washing pile - oh yes - the washing pile - I may, in fact, not turn the machine on AT ALL this weekend - how's that for risky living?
The thousand questions - what's this, what's that, how, what, when, w-H-YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
So I might:
Go to the supermarket and cook something really nice for myself this evening.
Have a bath.
Work on some projects in my sewing stash.
Have a lie in bed in the morning.
Go into town and wander around the shops.
Paint my toenails.
Sit out in the garden with a glass of wine at 3pm in the afternoon - more crazy livin'
Read some trashy mags and a good book.
Watch some chick flicks
Go for a long walk with the dog.
The list is endless.
Of course, what's the betting that by 8am tomorrow morning, I'll have been up two hours, I'll be missing the kids like crazy, the house will be too quiet, the sun won't be out, I won't fancy a bath, I'll have had a sandwich for tea because I couldn't be arsed to cook for one and I may even put on the washing machine for some background noise!!!