How do you spend your lazy Sunday mornings? Are you lucky enough to read the morning papers? Drink your coffee? all whilst still in bed?
Our Sundays have become... no, what am I like?... our Sundays have always been early starts with a gathering tribe of smalls.
From babyhood where we'd have a baby in the bed with us and we were exhausted with night feedings and all of us flaked out whinging at the other to go and make some coffee and who was up most in the night competitions to try to outrank and prove it wasn't their turn to get up first, to toddlerhood with three smalls whereupon I'd normally lose the battle and end up comatose, but propped up, watching one, two or three toddlers happily playing and exerting ridiculous amounts of energy for 6am in the morning, to slightly older pre-schoolers who were, naturally "staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarving" by 6 and were observed by me (usually) with my eyes propped open by caffeine and matchsticks whilst they tucked into their weetabix like it was the last supper. My stomach, on the otherhand, wouldn't be open for business for at least another three hours!
These days things are much calmer. I'm returning to enjoying Sunday mornings (nearly!) once again. True, we don't have papers in bed, or coffee, but we do have longer lie ins. Kids are able to read their books, listen to their cd's quietly and without us in their face. This morning, for example, we were entertained by a puppet show at 7am. LMB had been up working on her project with modelling clay and sticks since 6 - so that bit doesn't change, only she's able to get on and entertain herself quietly whilst we're able to grab a bit more shut-eye.
Returning at 7, we're greeted with "lady going shopping", "ballet dancer" and "man going to barbers" (which was actually a head on a stick) and we were all told that we were one of the characters - luckily I wasn't the head! In she climbs. Hands all the puppets to Mr Beehive who was told in no uncertain terms to hold them and not drop them (he's still partially comatose btw but performed his task most excellently).
We're then joined by the next child, budge up mother! Usually we're then joined by the third one, who is more gangly and teen like as the weeks progress, he shuffles in, grunting about tiredness but isn't too big to push me over further to get his spot in the bed!
Of course, not wanting to miss a trick is Meggie, who spends all the night in her basket, but come family-bed-in, she doesn't want to miss out on the action and takes a flying leap (not bad for a tiny spaniel and an extra high bed) to land on the top of us all in a furry, licking heap!
"aggh, my elbow", "careful, you're on my hair", "that's my eye your nose is in" along with squeals of laughter and winces of pain and this morning's best "Mummy, you're on my finger!" "Sorry, but your foot is in my boob!". Still, we're all in, entertained by the puppet show and the made up song that goes with it, Mr Beehive playing his role of puppeteer to excellence with both eyes still closed. Eventually, usually the small one, gets hungry, or the old one needs the bathroom and we all pile out, but I'd not miss this, all the same. And, for all the bruises and squishes I receive (cos it'll always be me on the smallest square of bed!) I hope this will continue for a few more years to come.
Enjoy your Sunday morning lie in,
yours in squishes,
Big Chief Foot-in-Boob!
