A weekend away with your partner without the kids.

Going away sans enfants   

It sounds like a dream, a weekend away with your partner without the kids.  Bliss!  You book and plan it so far ahead it really is a wistful dream, until the week before.

Military precision then comes into play. Plan to leave home at 8am. Friend taking small son to school. We can drop kid’s bags and blow up beds to my parents on route, drop big son to school and get to Bristol airport for 10:20. Perfect. In theory.

I start thinking about who is doing what months before.  Husband useless.  Literally, he just gathers passports and then stands at front door with car keys, waiting to go on the day. ‘I’ve packed’ he says to me the night before. Blimey, put the flags out, impressive and how helpful, some might say.  But what he has actually done is lay out 3 pairs of socks (we are going to Girona, 25 degrees, no socks needed) shirts, boxers, shorts etc, all ready for me to actually fold and pack. I discuss the difference between packing and just deciding what to take, but this seems to fall on deaf ears. In fact this just results in husband running around house shouting at 11pm, ‘where are all the bloody iPod chargers?’  SHUT UP you’ll wake the kids!

Oh yes, what about those small people?  Have you packed my headphones mum? Why are you going away? Will Nan wear a nightie to bed to this time? Why doesn’t she wear one like you mum?  Big son (now just a teen) suggests I better not to forget his Nike t shirt, his Kings Will Dream hoodie (I know who are KWD right?!!) and his Ted Baker body spray, my dude (all sentences end with my dude, it is the latest thing!). He also mentions he is working at 7am on Saturday morning. My parents will love that, groan. Aside from the fact it took me months to pluck up the courage to ask if they would have the children, now I’ve got to sell an early start too. Small son is concerned he cannot find his fish wax, he can find some clay, but that won’t cut it as it doesn’t do a good job in his hair.  He thinks his brother has taken it. Also there are 4 packs of tic tacs, 2 teddy bears, a fidget spinner and 5 nerf guns to pack (you never know who may attack the grandparents house. It could happen at any time), and don’t forget my iPod charger and headphones please.

Then there’s the dog! Food, treats, poo bags – check. Walk him round to our (lovely) neighbours where he is received with open arms.  Slightly suspicious of this, and a bit jealous. He is the only one in our household who doesn’t give me any trouble, ever.  Well, except when he stole a hot dog…

My Mum telephones with 5 mins til ETA. Can I go into Lidls and get some strawberries, but check the pack to make sure there are no bruised ones. And if I see apple juice on offer can I get some of that too.  I can’t say no she’s having kids for the weekend! So off we go, slightly late.  In the car the husband states every 12 minutes, ‘We are really pushing it, this will be tight getting to the airport on time. What have you been doing all morning, you should have planned this earlier and we should have left earlier’.

Really???  Sound familiar anyone?

Arghhh get me a gin and tonic!!!