Smug, before a fall

Sundays are a bit hit-and-miss here.  Generally, they miss for the following reasons:

• We are, or one of us is, usually a bit hungover (or at least knackered from a late night), and being knocked into consciousness by a child catapulting another child onto your (until then) sleeping head is bound to start even the best day off on the wrong foot.
• We then spend 15 minutes arguing over whose turn it is to get up first.  
• We are too tired to actually organise anything for the day or get the show on the road, and anyway, we’re not talking to each other (see above note) and so end up lounging around the house, resulting in the kids watching too much tv and bickering and doing “crafts” such as creating a Winter Wonderland out of toilet paper (thousands of teeny tiny torn up pieces of toilet paper) in the bathroom.
• On top of all of that, Sundays = no maid  (IMAGINE allowing them to have a day off), so the day is filled with flashbacks of Life As It Was (laundry and picking up shit all day long and not having enough pairs of hands to restrain all the children and and and...  It’s hideous, and you must all feel very sorry for us having to face it one day a week.)

Sometimes however, we manage to Get It Right, and they are a total hit, like today:

• Parenting shifts agreed before bedtime
• Parent in charge of the first shift wards off the advances of the catapulting / catapulted children before they reach the bedroom
• Both parents mindful during their shift of the effect of (a) child-based noise levels and (b) child-based interruptions, on partner parent’s sleep
• Parent on second shift organises all the bags, clothes, sun-screen, water, wipes, toys, towels, nets, leashes, chains etc etc for the outing ahead, enabling us all to:
• Leave the house early, and stay out ALL DAY. (The kittens were fine, simmer down).

Leaving early and staying out all day is the key to a successful Sunday in our house.  Leaving early means that minimal mess has been made.  Even *our* delinquents have a hard time destroying too much when the agenda for the morning is “breakfast then cartoons” and they’re hauled out the door as soon as the cartoons are over.  Staying out all day maintains a mess-free zone, exhausts the children, and results in them being fairly compliant – and sleepy – on our return.

We went to the beach, which is in itself hit-or-miss, but today we hit it fairly hard, with beers and fish and chips, and we had lovely visiting company, and the kids scattered and made friends and played with dogs, and only one fucking twat stole our beachball (a large beachball isn’t something you can just pick up by mistake thinking “oh, this is ours isn’t it? I think it fell out of my enormously large beach bag...” ).  And when we got home the cats leapt with joy which delighted the kids (because they’re too young to realise that cats leap with joy for one reason only - well, two, if you count catnip), and the mess which greeted us was small (and who doesn’t enjoy clearing the breakfast table dishes at 6pm of an evening?) and we had take-out pizza and The Boxtrolls, which I think is probably the best animated movie ever made.  And then they went to bed and it wasn’t even 8pm.

And then I remembered that they have the next two days off school and the Man is travelling, and suddenly I’m not feeling quite so smug any more.