I don't know what it is about Sundays but I'd always thought they were thought they were meant to be a day of rest....somehow I find myself waking up each sunday morning thinking "let the battle commence!"
Despite the fact that BH takes the boys off to play rugby (and indulge in all things manly like a beer or two in the clubhouse) which leaves me with a potential 3 hours to indulge myself with Mimi in all things girly, it really doesn't seem to happen. Poor Mimi is stuck at the kitchen table with her pencils, with mummy cajoling "Draw mummy a nice picture of a dog!", whilst chucking van loads of washing into the machine, simulatanously emptying the dishwasher and writing the shopping list.
Miriam (the au pair), won't surface until 2, but I think if I make enough noise she might appear and offer to take Mimi to the park. I know she won't, because she never does, but I can live in hope! Then it's off to the supermarket, to buy the items needed for the school lunches, for the evening dinner, the special items that Miriam likes to make her feel at home (lots of bread, ice cream and oven chips!) and the dog food. Mimi will invariably try to make me buy her a toy ("Buy me present, lovely mummy!" How can I resist?), and will run around the aisles so that I begin to panic when she disappears out of sight for a second then chase after her, missing vital items on the list, arrive home, exhausted, empty washing machine, put on more washing, wash up the cups and plates Miriam has left in the sink (still doesn't understand the concept of the dishwasher!).
BH arrives home with Bart and Finn. Brunch on, feed, wash up, (dishwasher still full) wash boys, wash kit, wash floor (mud clumps everywhere), start dinner, feed, wash up (dishwasher still full), wash Mimi, get uniform ready, do homework, write notes, sort out lunch money, sort out bags....actually I lie...this all gets done in a rush on Monday morning, as I scramble around finding socks that might match (Miriam still in bed!), dig down the side of the sofa to see if any change has fallen out of BH's trousers! I generally fall into bed about 12...knowing that my feet hadn't touched the ground all day....and roll on Monday...some peace!
I'm not feeling sorry for myself, because I know it happens the world over...if you're not throwing some kind of kit into the machine then you're not a mother of boys..unless you've taught them to do it themselves...which isn't a bad idea! Mind you, if I left it up to BH then I'm pretty sure the white collars of those shirts would quickly become a nice shade of pink or a fetching shade of grey!! Me? I'm not superwoman, but Marion is. Her whites are whiter than white, her flower arrangements perfection, her food...well...amazing. Going to Dinner at Marions, is like going "out"!! The table is laid beautifully, she won't let you leave the table to help, the food, like I said, devine. If you need to know anything about anything, then Marion is your lady.
"Marion, " I asked (as we were walking the dogs one morning...only Jude doesn't have one, so she doesn't belong to this club...she said she's getting one as she feels left out...and we probably talk about her!) "Marion, how do you get your white so white?" I felt like I was repeating that immortal line from the TV advert...but how else can you re-phrase it?
"Darling, " she trilled " Daz and colour catchers! You can't go wrong!"
Well, she's right...although the powder has changed in properties, the colour catchers have saved me an absolute fortune, particularly now as BH no longer has to buy replacements for his offpink office attire.