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A lot of people have commented on how exhausted I’ve looked the past couple of weeks. |
It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, both at work and at home.
I’m pretty sure it’s involved some of my best and worst parenting – simultaneously.
First there was work – the annual school Book Fair.
I was a Book Fair virgin, which seems an appropriate analogy, as I felt decidedly violated once it was over.
I was out the door before 7am and home after 5pm each day, whiney Feral Threesome in tow.
It was a costly experience, in more ways than one.
I spent a small fortune on books for my own kids, just to shut them up while I worked.
I spent a stupid amount of time fretting over why the Minions posters weren’t selling, why we were selling so many blue macaron erasers as opposed to pink, and wondering who was taking the “Final Copy” notes from the books.
School Library Officers – I salute you. It was my first one, and I will spend the next 365 days recovering.
It was all for the children and so I sucked it up, self medicated with wine of an evening, and I did it.
Because I am nothing if not selfless when it comes to educating and shaping young minds.
And it was in my job description. Heh.
I didn’t have more than a day to bask in the after-glow, as it was very quickly followed by a bit of a parenting guilt trip.
Upon a quick moment of self-reflection during an ad break, intending to once again congratulate myself on going above and beyond for the children, I realised that I’d been so consumed by making the Book Fair a success, that I hadn’t actually spent much quality time with my children.
And of course they all looked so bloody angelic and quiet and well behaved when I had this realisation – because they were asleep.
And so, in the morning when they were far less angelic and quiet, I promised the world to them come Friday night – there would be bonding, fun, board games, the works!
Then Friday night rolled around and I was half way to the bottom of a bottle of Mumm (my post Book Fair treat) when I was reminded of my promises.
I vowed to do better on Saturday.
Saturday came and I steeled myself for the most fun that could be had minus wine.
I had an impromptu skipping contest with Miss6.
Totally wiped the floor with her.
Was all smug about my good, healthy parenting, and also my ability to beat a child at something moderately athletic.
Buoyed by my smugness, I then commenced a 3 hour dance off with Miss9, who then tagged in Mstr6 and Miss6.
It was on like Donkey Kong as we found the “Greatest Hits of the 90’s” marathon on one channel, and “The Hottest Hits Right Now” on the other – my two greatest musical loves.
Miss9 was raising the roof.
Miss6 was dropping it like it was hot.
We were all Gangnaming with wild abandon.
Mstr6, I think, did a little break dancing. I think. That or he was cleaning the floor his head. Truthfully, knowing him, both are viable.
It was a raging success.
The kids had a blast. I busted a move and taught them all about modern rap versus 90’s rap (it’s just a little bit faster and the clothes aren’t quite as baggy). I ensured they would have a degree of street cred come school disco time.
EDUCATED
EXERCISED
BONDED
Nailed it.
I was clearly the most awesome, hippest parent in the land.
Was.
Until yesterday morning when I attempted to raise my body from the bed.
And suddenly it was more about a potentially busted hip than being hip.
Clearly, at some point, a steam roller has driven over my person, reversed up and gone back over me, before parking on my legs.
Dear Vodka Gods. Everything hurts. It all aches.
It’s like a killer hangover without the booze and drunken shenanigans the night before.
Worst of all, the kids are totally up for making it a weekly “family night” kind of gig.
Through the pain, I could only communication in a feeble, kind of Yoda-esque way. I was all “Hmmm…great….that would…be….”
Next time I will stick to board games (which I like to refer to as bored games…because there’s only so many times you can pass Go and collect $200 without wanting to poke your eyes out with the plastic thimble…).
I can’t wait until they’re old enough for drinking games….