MINI BREAK!! Let's clean the fridge...
Blissful, delightful, fleeting. An almost 24 hour mini break where we revisit what life was like in our twenties, or at least try to.
I'm like an excited teenager the whole week, deciding what I'll wear and what my drink of the night will be. So much to do before I get there though. Organise the three kids. They are shipping out to their grandparents for a sleepover, so I must pack the kitchen sink. They are 6, 4.5 and almost 2 and they DO NOT travel light.
That is a task in itself, so why then on the day I am to whisk myself off, do I notice the fridge could do with some freshening up?? I tackle that, give it a good scrub. There is a fair bit of sinful waste gone into the bin it has to be said, but we will address that when we get home. I empty the bulging bin.
Right that's ticked. LAUNDRY!!! Christ I'll be away for a whole night. Must get ahead of myself a little. Tick. Right, I need to pack. But hang on, I am sure the dishwasher needed to be unpacked... yup! I can't leave them in there for a whole 24 hours. Tick. Floor looks like it needs a hoover, but...
Yeh, there we go, I did it, I found it. The mother of all 'jobs'. I couldn't just quit while I was apparently ahead. The car! We all know it. We don't want to go there. I couldn't possibly drive the car away for a mini break looking like I've just herded and transported some farm animals for a few weeks. That's fine for the school run but not my mini break!?! I don't get it either.
(p.s I'm not for a solitary second suggesting our cubs are like farm animals, it's just that they do bring an awful lot of mud into the car.)
The inside is scrubbed, polished, hoovered and rendered 'acceptable'. Let's face it, it is never going to look or smell new again. The outside is very mucky but I will stop and get that cleaned on the way.
I come back inside, check the clock and notice I should be on the road! Definite tinges of panic setting in now and I feel the whole relaxing purpose of the trip slip away. Quick scan, house gleaming, apart from the floors, kid's bags neatly packed and lined up at the back door, and unless I'm imagining things, the kids are actually looking quite neat and appear to be lining up at the door too. They must want to go.
Hubby's packing done in 2 minutes flat, by my very good self of course. So that leaves just me. I'm definitely a little more tanned than I was this morning, so that's good. My hands are a bit blotchy from all the OCD scrubbing though. Nothing a little nail polish won't fix and I'll be able to paint my nails at the toll booth. I'm KIDDING!!! I'll do that while car is being washed.
Ok, F.O.C.U.S... need to pack. My head spins, as I do a mental survey of what I have. Of course I cannot decide what I will wear so I bring EVERYTHING, and will inevitably complain about having nothing to wear when I arrive. A girl's prerogative. The tidy house now looks like a tornado has swept through it, hitting every corner, as I look for stuff 'I need" because I'm going away for a whole 24 hours. It's exhausting!
I have the quickest of showers and surpass myself by having the most ingenious plan to have my hair dryed on the way up to Dublin, that will save me some time. So I ring a hairdresser on the route, and book in. In reality, this has done me no favours and merely adds to the pressure that is already too close to snapping my time keeping strategy.
I'm finally in the car. I deliver our cubs, with their goodbye kisses, to my parents house and fly up the road. My hair wet, my boot looking like a suitcase exploded, the car still dirty outside but great inside. I sob a little as I pass the petrol station, knowing that I am 20 minutes late for a blow dry and won't actually get time to stop for a car wash. Having the inside so perfect seems pointless now. I've fooled no one. I was quite relieved to discover one other filthy car in the car park when I did eventually get there.
In the end, we had a great night. I came back and picked up where I left off and started washes, tidied and hoovered, which made me wonder what I actually did at all yesterday. Hubby opens the fridge on our return, looking for something to eat I expect. I'm assuming he's slightly taken aback by the beauty of it's gleaming fresh empty glory as he asks "What happened the fridge?
I'm like an excited teenager the whole week, deciding what I'll wear and what my drink of the night will be. So much to do before I get there though. Organise the three kids. They are shipping out to their grandparents for a sleepover, so I must pack the kitchen sink. They are 6, 4.5 and almost 2 and they DO NOT travel light.
That is a task in itself, so why then on the day I am to whisk myself off, do I notice the fridge could do with some freshening up?? I tackle that, give it a good scrub. There is a fair bit of sinful waste gone into the bin it has to be said, but we will address that when we get home. I empty the bulging bin.
Right that's ticked. LAUNDRY!!! Christ I'll be away for a whole night. Must get ahead of myself a little. Tick. Right, I need to pack. But hang on, I am sure the dishwasher needed to be unpacked... yup! I can't leave them in there for a whole 24 hours. Tick. Floor looks like it needs a hoover, but...
Yeh, there we go, I did it, I found it. The mother of all 'jobs'. I couldn't just quit while I was apparently ahead. The car! We all know it. We don't want to go there. I couldn't possibly drive the car away for a mini break looking like I've just herded and transported some farm animals for a few weeks. That's fine for the school run but not my mini break!?! I don't get it either.
(p.s I'm not for a solitary second suggesting our cubs are like farm animals, it's just that they do bring an awful lot of mud into the car.)
The inside is scrubbed, polished, hoovered and rendered 'acceptable'. Let's face it, it is never going to look or smell new again. The outside is very mucky but I will stop and get that cleaned on the way.
I come back inside, check the clock and notice I should be on the road! Definite tinges of panic setting in now and I feel the whole relaxing purpose of the trip slip away. Quick scan, house gleaming, apart from the floors, kid's bags neatly packed and lined up at the back door, and unless I'm imagining things, the kids are actually looking quite neat and appear to be lining up at the door too. They must want to go.
Hubby's packing done in 2 minutes flat, by my very good self of course. So that leaves just me. I'm definitely a little more tanned than I was this morning, so that's good. My hands are a bit blotchy from all the OCD scrubbing though. Nothing a little nail polish won't fix and I'll be able to paint my nails at the toll booth. I'm KIDDING!!! I'll do that while car is being washed.
Ok, F.O.C.U.S... need to pack. My head spins, as I do a mental survey of what I have. Of course I cannot decide what I will wear so I bring EVERYTHING, and will inevitably complain about having nothing to wear when I arrive. A girl's prerogative. The tidy house now looks like a tornado has swept through it, hitting every corner, as I look for stuff 'I need" because I'm going away for a whole 24 hours. It's exhausting!
I have the quickest of showers and surpass myself by having the most ingenious plan to have my hair dryed on the way up to Dublin, that will save me some time. So I ring a hairdresser on the route, and book in. In reality, this has done me no favours and merely adds to the pressure that is already too close to snapping my time keeping strategy.
I'm finally in the car. I deliver our cubs, with their goodbye kisses, to my parents house and fly up the road. My hair wet, my boot looking like a suitcase exploded, the car still dirty outside but great inside. I sob a little as I pass the petrol station, knowing that I am 20 minutes late for a blow dry and won't actually get time to stop for a car wash. Having the inside so perfect seems pointless now. I've fooled no one. I was quite relieved to discover one other filthy car in the car park when I did eventually get there.
In the end, we had a great night. I came back and picked up where I left off and started washes, tidied and hoovered, which made me wonder what I actually did at all yesterday. Hubby opens the fridge on our return, looking for something to eat I expect. I'm assuming he's slightly taken aback by the beauty of it's gleaming fresh empty glory as he asks "What happened the fridge?
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