Why I love weekends

I feel guilty for wishing my week days away but I do love weekends. I remarked to K while we were “glamping” how much I love our family time now that the kids are older. He immediately disagreed and insisted how much he loved it when they were little, that they were cute and funny, etc. I think he was wearing the proverbial rose-tinted specs. Yes, they were funny (they still are) and cute (ok not strictly “cute” now but smart and bright and sweet) but they were also bloody hard work. 

Now they’re older they chat about interesting things, have real opinions and challenge decisions. I love this. I didn’t want children who just accepted what they were told. I didn’t want little mini versions of us (cos we’re quite boring!) and I’m glad they’re not. Yes, T is without doubt his fathers son but mainly in looks and some mannerisms. He’s far more sensitive and thoughtful. I hurt my finger yesterday and he raced into the house after me to see if I was ok while K just carried on doing what he was doing. 

But I digress. 

Weekends. We made a sort of pact a while back that we would avoid having to go to the shops at weekends wherever possible. We agreed that we should try and do at least one thing that involved all of us being together and that we all enjoyed. And since the children have been older this has got easier. We can watch films that are actually quite enjoyable. We can go to places that require an element of decent behaviour and patience. We can eat in places that don’t have play areas or children’s menus. We can go for ten mile bike rides and walks without someone making a big fuss and ruining it (well, sometimes). 

Today, we cycled from the house to Studham and then on to Gaddesden Row and Flamstead. I drew the short straw and had to be patient mum, encouraging mum, bringing up the rear behind A who needs lots of reassuring and geeing up when the path gets even slightly more than dead flat. But she did really well and I actually meant most of what I said. I even managed to cycle up the fabled “killer hill” that T and K battled with on one of their previous outings without us. I couldn’t give up after telling A that she should keep going. It nearly killed me but I did it. 

We got back and T had already opened up the house and got the garage door up ready for the bikes. They got themselves showered and then helped sort lunch. It all seems a far cry from the days of having to plan with military precision and take turns to go for a pee while the other looked after the child(ren). 

I know that we’re entering the dreaded teenage years and times are going to be tough. I know I’m going to wish they were helpless babies that can’t answer back and can’t leave my sight, when they’re stroppy and argumentative. But for now I’m just enjoying their company and making the most of every moment that they’re still happy to spend with me. 

Weekends are very precious. 


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