The mister is home from Libya now, and I, having spent my first ever week of running the house single-handedly while holding down a full time job, am feeling not even a twinge of guilt at showing him the weekend schedule and letting him work it out.
I, personally, have no social life, but the boys’ are increasingly active and there has been a lot of tetris-type planning as I work out how to be here by then and there after that, all the while continuing my adjustment to full time work, packing the lunches, keeping myself nice and squeezing in the daily hour of writing that I am determined to maintain no matter what. Oh, and there was the small matter of documents-wrangling, a seemingly interminable part of life in the emirates.
The lads did go to school in damp clothes yesterday morning because I didn’t get them (the clothes, not the lads) on the line until late the night before. But that sometimes happens even when the mister is around and, as I explained, once on your body, damp clothes get dry, but smelly clothes just get smellier. And anyway, a few days before that, I had made a flawless banana cake and we all sat together just before bedtime eating flawless oven-warm banana cake.
The week ended at 8pm last night with me and youngest boy finally home, cuddled on the couch having a movie night, something we’ve never, ever done before. When we came to set it up, I remembered that our television satellite thing doesn’t work, and our DVD player is region 2, and all of our DVDs, except Bolt, are region 4 (don’t ask – especially don’t ask why we’ve got a Bolt DVD). So it was slim-pickings movie night, but movie night nonetheless.
In the light of the morning, I see that I left a wine glass with dregs on the coffee table, he left crumbs on the couch, and we both left pillow dents.
My memories of being send to school in damp clothes are ones of excitement, despite the cries of ‘work huss!’
what’s ‘work huss’? I should know, shouldn’t I? It’s some kind of Dickens reference, isn’t it?
Mmmm, banana cake crumbs.
Hope you have a sleep-filled weekend and also chatting with the Mr.
He does not have time to chat. There’s sandwich platters to be made, school campouts at which to handout sandwich platters, shirts to be ironed, social engagements to get children to and so on and etceteragh
The mister is home from Libya now
!!!
you are not freaking kidding…he can barely believe it himself.
tetris-type planning – so evocative! Enjoy the weekend with the Mr
it’s probably not my mind’s own invention, because it just came out while I was typing, so I must have heard it somewhere before I think.
Sooz has likened her life to tetris, perhaps you read it there? When the kids get sick it’s Game Over.
I’d never have left crumbs, dents or wine glasses about before I went to work full time.
But now?
Youngest told me, yesterday, that he’d been wearing the same socks for three days.
Good for you. I love movie nights with my lad. We do it every time my mister is away, and we always watch something really sentimental and get teary together.
His future girlfriends are going to thank me, I swear.
And warm banana bread… mmmmmmmm.