My continued efforts to distort space and time are continuing to failwhich is probably entirely predictable, given that I’m not Dr Emmit Brown, and I haven’t invented the “Flux Capacitor” yet.
In reality, last night saw me employ the age old tactic of “staying up late” in order to make the weekend last longer. This idea of using the night as another daytime doesn’t really workon account of you then have little sleep, or fall asleep in the cinema (which I didwhile I should have been watching “Arthur Christmas”).
Soafter falling into bed during the early hours of Sunday morning, the children woke me at some time after 6 this morning when they asked if they could go downstairs. I often wonder how long we will get away with this trick forat what point will they stop asking and just start ransacking the house?After staring at the ceiling for a while and working out how few hours sleep I had, I made the fateful decision of looking at my phone, and realising that on the other side of the planet friends were still up (albeit late for themdoing the same trick as me), and that I could catch them online if I managed to scrape myself out of bed.
Ten minutes later I was rubbing sleepy from my eyes, squinting at the computer in the study, wearing yesterday’s clothes. I rationalised that it was still damn earlyI could have a shower, shave, and get fresh clothes later (which I did).
Who knew that the crazy early internet catch up session would be the start of such a crazy day By 10 I had already fed the chickens, the children, washed up, cleared the kitchen, tidied the lounge somewhat, and was chasing the children to get dressed.
First stopthe big playing park in town. The idea had been to get the kids out of the house in order to let W begin turning the place inside out in preparation for Christmas decorations. On our journey to the park we came across several hundred Father Christmases, taking part in the annual “Santa Fun Run”. I’ve done it several times in the past, but not this yearmy work schedule has pretty much precluded any involvement in anything. The end result of all of this was a playpark filled to the gunnels with children of parents doing the run. We stayed for about fifteen minutes.
Second stopthe toy shop in town. I had promised the children some pocket money each, and they remembered that promise (funny, that). After perusing all manner of toys, games, and idiotic junk I spied the display with the Smurfs on. I thought it rather strange that they were out of little people’s sight and reach. Quite miraculously I managed to talk the children into pooling their money and buying Smurfswhich pleased me no end because I wanted to play with them too (I’m old enough to remember them the first time round).
Third stopthe new supermarket in town, for both an explore, and to buy groceries for the next day or two at home. The children helped me find things, and then thoroughly confused the self service checkoutswhich were obviously never designed to have three little girls competing to scan bar codes of products at such high speed.
Four stopthe movie shopwhere we picked up a couple of bargain bin DVDs for the kids, and a couple for the grown ups to watch after bedtime (Water for Elephants, and Burlesque, if you were wondering).
Fifth stopStarbucks for lunch. After struggling to find anywhere that might serve food for our eldest (she’s coeliac, meaning no gluten), I settled on Starbucks, who do pre-made salads. Buying food and drinks for the four of us in Starbucks was damn expensive, but the children loved it (wellall except Miss Seven who has one of her “I don’t like that” reactions to her sandwich without even trying it). I could cheerfully have bounced her off the ceiling.
Sixth stopFlorists. Knowing W was getting the decks cleared for decorations, I thought it might be nice to get some flowers to put around the placeso we wandered into the florist and the kids chose some uncut flowers. Our eldest looked suitably proud carrying them home.
Seventh stopHome! The next hour was like a scene from a vietnam war movie as bags of rubbish were ejected from the house, and dusters and polish were applied to anywhere and everywhere. After killing my arms polishing the wooden table in the lounge (it’s made of railway sleepersit has to be waxed by hand), we sprung a surprise on the children “come on kidsget in the carwe’re going to get the Christmas tree”. Excited cheers rang out from all corners of the house.
Eighth stopGarden Centre. We picked a 6ft tree pretty quickly, and I lifted it bodily onto the top of the car (which caused a “wow” from Little Miss Sevenshe rarely sees me use any “grown up level” strength). We then made the mistake of looking at the other decorations. Going to look at christmas decorations with children is like walking into a Las Vegas Casino with a gambling problem. We escaped with only a minimal hole in our bank account.
Ninth stopHome again. After doing the superhero act once more, and transporting the tree to the lounge, I climbed into the attic to retrieve the boxes of baubles, tinsel, and various other gaudy paraphernalia associated with the festive season. While W and the children went crazy with it in the lounge, I cooked dinner.
And so it is I find myself sat here nowat some time after 9pm, wondering what the hell to do with myself for the remaining few hours of the weekend. The kids are showered, hair washed, brushed, and in bed. The Christmas tree is decorated, and the lounge is festooned with boxes of decorations ready for little people to “help”.
Decision time sit and watch a movie, or surf the internet aimlessly?