It started as an ordinary Sunday, and believe me, I am well aware of how that “ordinary” might sound but this is what it was, or better, this is what I wanted it to be.
The travelling husband , daughter number one and big ears german left early to go hunting. I got up with them, but not because I am a perfect irreprehensible mother and wife, only because I tried to stay in bed before, and it didnt work. Let’s say they are not the most silent of the persons and neither the most independent.No matter if they spend hours the night before to get their equipment ready, in the morning there is always something missing andf they go around the house with the grace of two elephants in a china shop looking for it, and normally unsuccessfully until mama gets up and finds it for them. Ever tried to see in the right place where things should be?
Anyway, back to this morning, I got up, got down, made breakfast, make sure the husband and his daughter had everything, and they do, or so they said. I waved them goodbye and good luck, and with extreme relief and satisfaction, I close the door behind me, or them…as you prefer.
Even if it is a bit of torture waking up early even on a Sunday, I like my early morning “me time”.
I put on another coffee, switch on the TV for the news and grab my I pad to catch up on some post and maybe write my post too. Daughter number two is not an early rise, and I am hoping to have a couple of hours to spend exclusively in my own company.
Shortly after I got comfy on my favourite chair, a frantic knock on the door made me jump, and poor old Clara bark like the lunatic she is,(thank God the foster dog is not a barker…yet!).
I peeped from the window, and there they were….back: they forgot some maps! I passed them over to them and hopefully send them away for good, this time.
I went back to my chair, where I didn’t last long undisturbed….the knocking and the barking woke daughter number two up who, crankily got down asking what the hell was that mayhem!
Good news is that in the meanwhile it started to rain. On an average day, it would probably annoy me, but on a Sunday morning like today, it would only be a blessing as it might be an excuse to skip hockey.
A very naughty thought, I know, and in fact, I am immediately punished! Just when I got accustomed to the idea to indulge in my PJs for another while a blinding sun appeared and suddenly we had to rush to get to the pitch on time for the match.
After lunch, my yellow chair is still there begging for me to go and keep it warm, but because CG has inherited my overdeveloped memory, she reminds me that there is the monthly fiddle Sunday session. Not that I had forgotten about, I just hoped she would!
I am now in the pub, sitting by the window, sipping a refreshing pint of beer while spoiling my soul at the sound of lovely Irish ballads.
A beautiful picture isn’t it? But it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The only thing that resembles the reality is that I am sitting by the window. Except, instead of looking at the red sunset on the harbour, I need to give my unconditioned attention to daughter number two and her mates, who are playing some not recognisable Irish classic; and I am not even drinking a pint of beer because I am driving! I am instead drinking a disgusting over sweetened and watered blueberry juice.
I know what you are thinking, why not drink a coke or something else? Just because they didn’t have the same strong smell that, once it goes up your nostrils will save you from all the other scents that come with a room full of teens and pre-teens.
One hour and a half later, (and five euros after, because it is not that this honour comes for free), we are done and back home.
My chair is destined to be still neglected because even the “hunters” are back home, unusually early. My chance of lazy time for lazy me has gone: vanished, until after I played a quick round of harry potter Cluedo and sorted dinner I go locking myself in my bedroom. I am not asking for much, just to lay down for half an hour. I don’t even attempt to read a book; I will be more than happy to look at the ceiling in silence. And I was seriously risking to succeed on this impervious venture when a scream reached me. It was not a scream of pain, and because the other adult of the house was allegedly downstairs, I ignored it! Only THEY did not ignore me, and a few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I was still determined to ignore whatever was happening outside my bedroom.
“Mom, have you seen Kurt has a big hole in his chest?”. A shy voice spoke through the keyhole, probably knowing I was certainly not going to ignore that.
I threw myself out of bed and down the stairs. Poor big ears german was laying belly up while the travelling husband was inspecting his chest and cleaning the open wound. He must have jumped over some razor wire without either his father or his sister to notice.
The injury was deep and required four stitches, but thanks to his protective Popeye t-shirt, he was the most fashionable dog on the beach.
Me, I am still hoping to go lazy next Sunday.