I realise that blog title makes me sound like I did a really sacrifical thing for Mothers Day this year.
Conscious of my wife’s incredible mothering, I gave her a day off and looked after the children all day, by myself.
That’s a little misleading…
What is true is that I spent a whole forty eight hours with sole parental responsibility for two crazy children. Sophie in her excitable three-year-old state charging round. Harry, all wide-eyed and inquisitive. Daddy in charge.
Mummy on the other hand was able to get two nights away on a hen party for a wonderful friend of ours and far from being by myself, I called in reinforcements and my mum and mum-in-law (as well as my dad too) proved more than willing volunteers to give me a hand.
My initial thoughts when my wife zoomed off on Friday afternoon were ones of terror – how would I cope with these children? What if I forgot to feed them? What if Sophie didn’t get her medication? What if Harry didn’t sleep?
Fortunately, my wife’s mum was on hand to help me sort them out and was amazing at putting Sophie to bed that evening. Harry did wake up randomly in the middle of the evening – scandalously interrupting a LEGO Harry Potter PS4 session I was enjoying with my friend – but settled again.
The night wasn’t too bad really. He had his feed at about 1 and then woke again at 4 for another. Sophie was great and out like a light. My problem was getting back to sleep. How do you mums manage it? I was up pondering all sorts of things. From Brexit to breakfast I had it covered.
Saturday we got up and Sophie babysat Harry (is she legally old enough to do that?) while I raced round packing bits for our trip to my parents house. I’d forgotten how much stuff babies came with. Drew the line at taking the Jumparoo though…
We are so fortunate to live close enough to the grandparents on both sides to see them regularly. Harry was introduced to Leyland – that hotbed of the north – while Sophie proudly proclaimed, “I love Leyland” as we soaked up the northern sunshine. Quite an accolade.
Time at the grandparents was really enjoyable and packed with variety: a park trip, an animal discovery zone, refusing to touch bearded dragons (which had no beards), swings, chicken nuggets and fries for dinner…and that was just the adults. Sophie loved it.
Bedtime was trickier. Without her little nightlight, she was a bit unsettled and going down to bed was not popular. After some intervention from Gran and me (and the gift of some books to read) she finally settled only to topple out of bed a bit later , while we were tucking into an awesome lamb dinner.
Church on Sunday was lovely, returning to St Andrew’s where I worked for twelve months ten years ago. Great to see lots of familiar faces although it’s frightening how fast their children have grown up. Word of warning with ours I suppose. They’re not young forever.
We had our second amazing meal of the weekend for Mothers Day and hung out with Uncle Dave too which Sophie loved. I was so lucky to get such support from my parents when I was in sole command. (Especially with parts of their house in building mode).
After lunch, it was time to head home. Mummy was due to be back when we got there so Sophie and Harry fell asleep, content that they had survived the weekend with me.
As for me, driving made sleep an unlikely option so I listened to my music and raced down the motorway. Sure enough, Mummy was home and it was wonderful to see her.
Phew. We’d made it.