We’d been parked in the driveway of friends for a few days and since with their mob of nine there were fourteen kids running about – or more specifically hanging about in our bus playing – finding a couple of hours of peace to focus on writing has been difficult.
Taking the kids to the loo when you’re on the road really eats into your day, especially when you’ve five kids and their bladders don’t communicate.
Not her. Me.
I confess I chuckled heartily too, until it occurred to me no-one was asking me to explain the joke. No-one.
It’s March and I’ve already ruined Christmas.
I’ve come to this realisation: one day I will become my father. I think it’s destiny for most of us, and I’ve decided to change my approach.
Things heated up in the kitchen this morning as we raced around attempting the seemingly impossible – to get the kids and us to three different events all happening at the same time.
Have a read of this email, give yourself a moment to calm down, and then tell me how you’d have handled it.
There is a stark contrast between my kids’ home dining experience and how I recall mine.
This is the first in what I’m hoping will become a bit of a series on the blog – your stories written up and shared by me. Personally, I think it sounds like a lot of fun. For example, the Miss5 in this story, and the masters 6 & 8, belong to a lovely reader of BFLI, Helen Kulas, who kindly agreed I could retell her children’s hilarious dinner table conversation. Thank you, Helen!
Worst. Motel. Ever. Read our story then I dare you to try do better. Plus at the bottom there’s a heads up on how to win a luxury tropical weekend escape at Niramaya Spa & Beauty valued at $4000. Thank you to Star Ratings Australia for sponsoring this post 🙂
Sometimes the best thing about a morning coffee is the thing you hear while your mouth is busy sipping instead of snapping at the kids…
I know it’s not considered cool in polite society to gloat about your parenting, but…
Sunday afternoon, I was having a little lie down when Miss4 decided to join me.
Sometimes the sweetest thing about Sunday is simply being able to come at the day at your own pace.