I need a holiday

So today, just like any normal day, except that we’re packing for holiday tomorrow. This is no big deal, a few clothes and toys, but it’s a cottage so we need food and wine! My husband’s working all weekend, so it’s up to me. So at 1030am I cart them out to the local supermarket to get what we need. Obviously the list keeps getting larger as we’re going round and see more things that we “think” we need, but most likely don’t.

So the baby’s in the baby seat at the front of the trolly and the 4 year old is in the front of the trolly with all the food. “It’s ok mum, you can put that on top of me” she says when I try to put cases of beer in. Eh….. on second thoughts, it’s time for her to get out. I was fully prepared for a full tantrum, but it turned out I had the perfect child. What a dream. So she’s out, I’ve got a full child’s body of space left, time to go mad at the clothes aisle for the baby.

So we get to the checkout and all hell breaks loose. Not the eldest, who is just singing away to herself. The baby goes wild, thoughts pour through my brain “how the hell am I meant to empty this outrageously full trolly whilst holding a heavy 6 month old baby.” I manage, and with the baby still going mental the checkout lady packs my bags, very slowly. The eyes are getting hot behind me, all staring at me, willing me to put the baby down and pack. Why is everyone in such a bloody rush – even on a Sunday. Baby going so crazy that I told eldest that we couldn’t get a juice up in the café, but that we had to go home and have lunch there. This news was not what she wanted to hear, almost a lying on the floor meltdown, but managed to convince her that gran and papa were coming very soon and that she wouldn’t have much time with just me!

So getting home, she helps me with the shopping, what a clever girl. Going into the house for lunch, a few minor tantrums about lunch, then the grandparents arrive for that golden hour. They’re taking the dog. When they’re there I don’t think I even string a sentence together for them, I get the washing hung up, the dishes done and the bins taken out, then it’s time for them to go. No mention of the dog when she’s doing nothing in her bed all day, but the minute she’s gone is a different story.

“But I love her” In floods of tears. By this point, I’m done.

I switch on the TV and feed the baby in complete silence, having packed nothing at all.

How are you meant to do anything when the kids are awake?!?!?!?