In a repeat of last weekend, which I believe I may have referred to as “not a weekend” during more than one stressed moment, this weekend is careering off under it’s own momentum too.
It began this morining at 7am when the younger members of the household woke up. The girl formerly known as “Miss Seven” had been awake for several milliseconds before an alarm bell labelled “IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY” went off in her head, and clanged about quite loundly and spectacularly. We both giggled in bed as we heard the after-effects of it’s tolling.
All whispered
“Go and ask if we can get up yet
More stage whispering…
“Let’s go and give Mum and Dad a cuddle”
The “cuddle” I received from the girl formerly known as Miss Seven had more in common with a bear hug, or a rock climbing hold than any cuddle I ever experienced. After she clung on for perhaps half a minute, she reached the end of the WHILE loop in her head…
(this time whispered directly into my head)
“Can I go downstairs and open my presents yet?”
We gave in. It was perhaps half past seven. We knew we had a full day head, and getting up early was going to make everything much easier - or at least it would have done if I hadn’t sat up until 4am reading a book that I became engrossed in.
The rest of the day has unfolded pretty much as expected. Eldest went to football practice, then a match. Younger kids went with W to cinema, and then we all met up at TGI Fridays for Birthday meal.
I should probably add a few words about Football practice. Our little defender played worse than we have ever seen her play. Rather than shout instruction from the touchline, I remained silent, and let the coach do his work. His positivity in the face of her lack of talent today was pretty enlightening. She only stayed on the pitch for perhaps 15 minutes before he substituted her, but he had nothing negative to say afterwards.
After a race back across town, and a trek to TGI Fridays in a nearby town, we finally met up with the birthday girl again.
We should probably have apologised to nearby families in TGIs. At times it was calm, serene, and the kids all sat down (our three, plus five other girls!). At other times, it passed more resemblance to a chimp’s tea party. I can’t complain though - all the children ate well, and seemed to have a fantastic time.
While sat watching their various antics and laughter, I began worrying about how much it was all costing, and if we could really afford it. Money has been on my mind for the last couple of years, after we got into pretty dire straights and hit a very real “zero” in the bank. In the end I looked around, saw the smiles, and decided to shut my worries away. The kids can find out in years to come about the hours I worked, and the weight I carried. My Dad did it, I’m doing it, and I expect countless other parents are going through the same thing.
This evening the girls are in the lounge with W playing a board game called “Articulate”. If the laughter could be bottled, it would power monsteropolis for years. You can’t buy laughter.