So tomorrow morning, well, hopefully morning, I shall be setting off on a road-trip with the four boys. On my own. For about seven hours.
We’re heading here:
The home of my best friend from school, K. We are celebrating the baptism of her (and J’s) third child, Niamh. I am her sponsor. Can you feel my smile through the interwebs series of tubes? My excitement? The honour I feel at being asked to do this? Yes, very very special.
This is me and K the last time I visited her place – the same weekend in October just two years ago:
We were both going to use that picture as our ‘before’ photo. You know, the before you lose the 20 kilos you need to lose to move from obese to just overweight? The 20kgs you need to lose to not be at risk of a heart attack/diabetes/insert other avoidable boombalardy diseases here. Ahhh, that 20kgs. As faithful as our friendship.
Anyway, we’re camping in her yard.
I’m instigating rules of no children near me for a minimum of about 12 hours a day. No disturbing the conversations between mummy and Aunty K unless you are bleeding A.LOT., a limb is detached, an eyeball is missing, or you have been kissed by a snake.
I’ve baked slices for Sunday but seriously, if they last until Saturday I’ll be really impressed. I’ve made up the sausage mix for two types of sausage rolls (chicken and bacon, pork and fennel). My next door neighbour has cooked us a piece of corned beef. For sandwiches. (I know, a neighbour from heaven she is.)
The boys have packed their bags (remind me to check that later tonight will you. I have visions of my children in church on Sunday wearing their pjs and three day old socks. Let’s not imagine the underpants.)
There’s enough junk food for me to bribe the boys into heaven let alone the 6.5 hour trip to K’s.
There’s really only one task left for me to do. One I should have had done weeks and weeks ago but I have to be true to form don’t I.
We’ll be home Monday night so play nice during my absence.
Love youse all.