Pre-kids, I remember what weekends used to be like; going out, pubs, meals, cinema, clubs. I know I don't do so bad really, but at times the weekends revolve so totally around being a cabby and organiser for your kids activities that before you know it, it's Monday again.
Take yesterday for example, Saturday up at normal school-day time to get Harry ready for his saturday football session. With the wife working I'd also have to take Jack (who has no footy interest) and who proceeds to whine for 1.5hrs to tell me how boring it is sat on a bench watching Harry and his mates, in the cold. He had a PSP with him, so he had a piece of "in my day..."
Then, after back from that at about 11am, it was time to walk the dog, then get their dinners ready before they went swimming, which ate up another 1.5hrs. By the time I'd caught snippets of an internet-televised disappointing draw by Leeds Utd and been highly aggitated by a disallowed goal, it was time to get Harry ready for a party at 5ish. It was my turn to go to the party and this time we'd arranged lifts so me and a pal (who was taking his son) could avail ourselves of the bar for a couple of hours. One hour and 3 Guinni in and Harry doesn't feel well, making a hastily arranged earlier trip back and putting the poor mite straight to bed, meaning we had to cancel a trip to the neighbours for drinks and stuff too. I think I ended up being in bed by about 10.30pm - rock and bloody roll.
Obviously you don't mind doing absolutely anything for your kids, but sometimes it's a bind that you don't get chance to relax, which I intend to do today since I need to be up at 6.30am tomorrow for the travel to Lyon.
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