A Weekend Off

My husband is taking the boy away for the weekend to visit his family. I have two glorious nights to myself. All those times I have been willing the boy to take a nap, or please stop making a bee-line for that wire, or yet another dirty nappy, where I have dreamed of what I would do should I get a day completely to myself means I now have 2-sides of A4 to-do lists.

The thing is, half of my to do lists is my wish list of things I dream of doing should I have the time; the other half is things I don’t particularly want to do but have no other time to do it. Most of it revolves around sorting out the flat. I feel my husband may be coming home slightly disappointed with my progress on that front.

I have decided to try achieve three things that I want to do for myself and three things that I need to do for the house. Lie-ins are not included as they come as standard with the time off.

For myself I will have a night out with my best friend, drink vodka, stay up late and not worry about the consequences. I will get up and make myself a lovely vegan fry-up, drink coffee on the floor and spread out the weekend newspapers to read. Finally, I will do some writing. I may even take myself off for a child-free coffee with my laptop and enjoy it hot and not at arm’s length.

For the house… yawn. Boring. Actually I am planning to make some bits of furnishings for my son’s room, get the last of the boxes unpacked and possibly do a once over of the cleaning. There, nothing too strenuous that will interfere with the much more important event of sleeping.



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