School holidays are not relaxing. I know they have the word “holiday” in them, but it’s a total furphy. A holiday is when you laze around doing nothing. I won’t be lazing until January 30, when Mummy’s School Holiday begins. I’m parking myself on the couch from 9.15am with the latest boxed set of True Blood, my iPad and a bowl of low-carb treats. And I won’t be moving again until school pick-up. OK, it’s possible I’ve over-committed myself slightly this school holidays. It probably accounts for the return of my heart palpitations. (That and losing the neighbours’ mail. Oh, and too much V.) This week’s crazy schedule looks something like this:
MONDAY
9.30am: drop Sprog 1 at prehistoric pot-making class.
9.40am: collect morning tea offerings from supermarket. Assemble on plate in car.
10am: arrive at playdate with Sprog 2 and morning tea offerings.
12.15am: leave playdate with Sprog 2 and remains of morning tea offerings.
12.30pm: collect Sprog 1 from prehistoric pot-making class.
1pm: make lunch
1.30pm: bake banana bread
2pm: friend and her kids arrive for afternoon tea – explained to Sprogs as “Mummy’s playdate, so give her some peace” – serve banana bread and remains of morning tea offering (biscuits only slightly soggy).
4.30pm: friend and her kids go home.
5pm: park Sprogs in front of educational David Attenborough DVD while preparing dinner.
6pm: serve dinner.
7.30pm: sister arrives to take me to movie.
7.45pm: Skull 2 pinot grigios with sister pre-movie.
8.30pm: Watch The Descendants. (Ho-hum. Even George Clooney didn’t save it for me. But then, he was wearing these awful, middle-aged clothes and had this terrible, middle-aged hair. Yes, I know, he was in character.)
11pm: arrive home. Clag in bed.
TUESDAY
9am: bake Jessica Seinfeld’s Deceptively Delicious choc chip cookies
9.30am: Sprog 2’s friend arrives for playdate.
10am: serve morning tea. Discover Jessica Seinfeld’s Deceptively Delicious choc chip cookies are not deceptively delicious enough. Sorry Jess, but children can tell when you’ve hidden weird healthy things like chickpeas in their sweet treats. They’re born with a special radar for culinary subterfuge.
10.30am: pack lunch, snacks and assorted paraphernalia for the Sprogs’ afternoon adventure.
11.30am: drive Sprog 2’s friend home.
11.45am: Drive the Sprogs to their afternoon adventure. Fortunately, this involves their ex-nanny taking them to the pool. As a freebie. Because she loves them so much. Score. Only drawback, ex-nanny lives 20 minutes away.
12.30pm: drive to shopping centre to finally exchange brother-in-law’s too-small Christmas present. Absence of XXL shirts – shopping centre is in a predominantly fine-boned Asian suburb – induces fresh series of heart palpitations.
2.30pm: arrive home for quick wee stop.
2.45pm: Walk up road for lash tint and brow wax (woe is me).
3.30pm: consider power-walk after lash tint. Decide walking to beauty appointment is exercise enough for the day. Fiddle on computer instead – pay balance on cruise, check domain.com.au, print invitations to Australia Day party on nature strip.
4pm: remove squashed not-delicious cookie pieces from rug.
4.30pm: leave to collect Sprogs.
5.30pm: return to cook dinner for Sprogs.
6.30pm: make Sprog 2’s lunch and morning tea for gymnastics day tomorrow.
7pm: Sprogs’ bed-time ritual palaver.
WEDNESDAY
6am: Australia Day party letterbox drop – 80 invites.
10am: drop Sprog 2 at gymnastics day.
10.30am: drive to swim centre on other side of town for aquatic playdate with Husband, Sprog 1 and some out-of-town friends.
3pm: collect Sprog 2 from gymnastics day. Deliver Sprog 1 to playdate at friend’s house.
4.30pm: drive over Harbour Bridge for Drinks No.1 with former workmate.
7.30pm: drive over Anzac Bridge for Drinks No. 2 with friends from New York.
The rest of the week progresses in a similiarly harrassed fashion, including a Luna Park visit (to activate 2-years for $99 bargain passes) followed by dinner with neighbours on Thursday; and driving to Port Stephens to visit sister-in-law on Friday. (And I haven’t even included all the usual domestic drudgery – dishwasher packing/unpacking, house tidying, clothes washing, blogging etc.) I know, I know, I only have myself to blame. But geez I’m knackered.
WHAT THE SCALES SAID: Decided to revive this section briefly as the scales said I was 68.3kg. Might as well celebrate it while it lasts. Neighbour said I was looking very svelte when I ran into her on my way to the beautician. Very nice of her considering I lost her mail (and was wearing puffy “fat” shorts).
TONIGHT’S DINNER: The Sprogs have been loving sausage curry with roti bread this week. I used a spice-mix from a fancy-pants store (am trying to clear the weevil-infested cupboard, fairly sure there were no weevils in the curry powder). But any mild curry sauce, powder etc works well. First I grilled a dozen sausages. Then I sauteed an onion, added the curry powder and a tablespoon of garam masala to the pan for a minute, tossed in a can of crushed tomatoes and a cup of coconut milk. Chopped the sausages, added them to the pan, simmered for 10 minutes and served with rice and roti (Woolies has roti in its pre-prepared meals section, the Sprogs like that one best). The Sprogs made themselves curried sausage & rice roti sandwiches and were very pleased with themselves.
housegoeshome 
geez… we just go to the beach for an hour in the morning, then go to the pool for an hour in the arvo… have lunch & i work on the computer & clean house in between, kids go to neighbours, or play games or watch tv (or fall asleep like amber yesterday)… sumtimes throw in a walk with the ferals on their bikes for half hour 1st thing in morning… lol
thats a holiday!!
Have to say I agree with you. I’m mad.
Yeah, I think you’re doing a tad too much. I’d just be telling the Sprogs to go play somewhere with all those toys I’d bought them. And if they complained they were bored, I’d suggest the toys were no longer required then, and would be placed on eBay. Can you tell I don’t have kids?
There used to be no more terrifying thought for me than a whole day at home with the sprogs, didn’t matter how many toys they had. Probably pnd. I cope much better these days, but don’t know when to say no.
When you get heart palpitations that’s when you start saying NO!
Have you heard of the pyjamas day, when no-one has to get dressed or leave the house (including you). It’s a little like a mental health day but for everybody. A day where anything goes as long as it’s not leaving the house.