It’s the last day of the Christmas holidays, I don’t need a calendar to tell me, the clink of the recycling bin and the huge swell in the laundry basket is evidence enough. I send the big ones back to free childcare tomorrow and the little one to nursery.
I feel a bit grieved.
We have embarked on a new life in the last couple of weeks, bedtime at ten and wake up the same. Evenings weren’t spent tied to the laptop but instead perched on the sofa, wine in hand watching hours of hours of children performing made up shows. The wine helped the appreciation of their performing arts but still watching all three perform Gangnam style step perfect is a sight worth paying for.
Christmas Eve found us clutching burning torches singing merrily round a bonfire, the weather was kind. Each child wore a smile rather than a scarf.
Christmas was one of best in my memory, the walls shook with laughter, my best friend cooked with me and we stumbled through a meal for fifteen with plenty of Prosecco. Santa delivered the goods and the kids were grateful. Moods remained happy and although snow didn’t fall the sun shone in its absence.
I have lost at Frustration, taught the children charades, and broken out the Christmas paints (instead of hiding them away).
I delighted in a weekend alone with my mum and a seriously quiet New Year with he who helped create them.
I read a couple of books, didn’t write many blogs.
It was bliss.
Until today when the twins kindly reminded me that tomorrow is Edwardian dress day at school and panic followed.
Nice to see normal is back.