One Whole Hour
Do you remember that time before children when an hour wasn’t long enough to get anything done? There was a time when cooking was a pleasurable experience that involved herbs and spices; cleaning resulted in all sorts of distractions, such as organising cupboards or taking a trip down memory lane with a photograph album; shopping was fun and included trying clothes on and stopping for coffee.
Having one child changed all this. Having two children means IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. Yesterday the Grandparents came for a visit and asked what I would like to do. What I wanted to do was go to the pub but what I needed to do was tidy up. For one whole hour I disappeared upstairs, stripped beds, tidied bedrooms, unpacked suitcases (from our visit to the Grandparents last weekend), re-organised the linen cupboard, sorted washing and had a chat with my mother. In my old life that would have taken about a week.
During this hour my mother walked Bruiser around until her arms probably wouldn’t work any more and my dad had to put tissue bandages on all of Diva’s toys. At the point I came downstairs they were all hiding under a blanket from a lion. One whole hour has gotten a lot longer these days.