The weekends are going to be the death of me. I am limping towards Christmas. I was out a bit during the week which didn’t help general grumpiness levels by the time we got to the weekend (pub quiz on Wednesday night where I thought I had a crack team and we did not win, bitterly disappointing, I digress).
On Friday, Michael stayed home from school sick. This was a mercy as it meant no hockey Friday night and French was cancelled also as T wasn’t available. Herself went off with a friend for a sleepover. Leaving Mr. Waffle to mind the boys on Friday evening, I went to a drink after work for a couple of departing colleagues, I went on from there to a retirement for a much loved former boss who is now a friend. It was lovely but a bit sad. Her husband died suddenly a couple of years ago and they had no children and she is an only child herself so a bit thin on relatives. That said, she more than made up for it with loads of friends and staying in great contact with all of her cousins but still, she and her husband had such great plans for when they retired which, of course, will never now be realised. On the other hand she’s off to New Zealand for all of January hiking with a friend while I will be weeping at my desk so, definitely not all bad.
On Saturday morning, I was outside Tesco with Michael (fully recovered) for two hours flogging tickets to support the scouts. People were really generous especially people you felt couldn’t really afford it which was a little depressing. We had a venture scout, a scout, a cub and a beaver and I can unequivocally state that, if you want to sell tickets, then beavers are the business. This little six year old pulled them all in with her enthusiastic bell ringing (small angel sized bell). She was in Michael’s old school so he was able to offer her some sage advice on how to handle the teachers. While we were selling tickets, Mr. Waffle and Daniel were off at a GAA match. Daniel’s team won comprehensively and he was pleased. We all arrived back to the house about lunchtime, including herself from her friend’s house. Quick lunch turnaround and then up to the church fair where herself and Daniel were singing carols at 2. Mr. Waffle drove Michael in to drama at 2.30. I bought various Christmassy items at the fair and, although it was freezing, a reasonably good time was had by all. Mr. Waffle picked up Michael from town at 4 and I went in to look disconsolately at possible throws and cushions for the sofa of doom. No joy. Ikea beckons.
On Sunday morning, Mr. Waffle and Michael went to mass in Irish and then on to hockey. Herself, Daniel and I went to mass together where they sang (beautifully I have to say, our choir mistress has done a wonderful job with the choir) and then stayed for rehearsal where they sang lots of lovely Christmas songs.
Back home to lunch with Mr. Waffle’s parents. It was a bit of a rush and I think that they were waiting patiently in their car when he got back from hockey with Michael. Herself was going into town to meet friends and I had promised to drop her in so, after a quick lunch, we abandoned the grandparents but I was back in time to have a cup of tea with them. After they left, a couple came from Bray to take away the old sofa which we had offered on freecycle. They sat on it and declared that it was too uncomfortable to take even for free. They were very pleasant and apologetic but while I sympathise, I was not entirely delighted.
Then Mr. Waffle and I decided to take a trip into town for ourselves. We abandoned the boys to Christmas test prep (school Christmas tests start tomorrow, there is a certain amount of tension around as I type) and went in to the National Gallery and then off for a cup of tea. Herself agreed to join us for tea. I picked her up in a bookshop where she was with her friends. I found myself asking one of them whether having that enormous rip in the knee of her jeans was conducive to keeping warm in December. I am my worst nightmare. Herself seemed unphased by my extreme parentness. She had just, unwisely in my view, spent €9 of her own money on “The Great Gatsby” because she loves it. Given that we have, at least one and probably two copies in the house and Christmas is coming, I felt that she could have played that better especially when she explained that she only had €7 and had to get the extra €2 from her friend M.
And how was your own weekend?
Your weekends are busy!! I sometimes think we are busy, but my little one still naps, so I can count on a respite then. I wish my kids both still napped (because I could, too!). Can you tell I’m tired?!
Nothing is as busy or exhausting as having small children. Truly. My weekends are as nothing compared to yours.