“I’ll pop round through the week!”
I don’t know about you but this off the cuff remark, from a friend I bumped in to at the supermarket, struck the fear of god into me. “Through the week, when’s that exactly? I need specifics!” Laughs hysterically.
I’m going to be brutally honest with you dear reader, my home is never what one might call ‘guest ready’ during the week. It starts off well enough on a Monday, post weekend clean the place is gleaming and ready for anyone. But, around mid-week the washing basket begins to swell and I find myself desperately trying to divide the three hours I’m not at work (and not asleep) between tidying my home and spending time with my boys – lest they forever be emotionally scarred by a mother who didn’t have enough time to play with them. By the time Friday rolls in, it’s best not to turn the lights on in our house.
Now, don’t get me wrong it’s hardly war torn Syria up in here but if you do decide to ‘pop by’ unannounced don’t be surprised to find yourself negotiating the safest route through the sea of throw pillows and toy soldiers scattered across the floor. Take care not to sit near the upturned Sippy cup on the couch, and don’t even get me started on the dining room table – the toddler thinks of snack time more as target practice than an actual time to eat.
If you’re after a less perilous reception, refreshments and all, I’ll need at least 48 hours advanced notice, and what a 48 hours! Two days of pure stress, reuniting wayward shoes with their owners, wondering when every item of clothing we own decided to migrate downstairs, and generally removing all traces of children having lived here.
So, for all you last minute guests remember, it’s rude to stare! For those who chose to book in advance, welcome. Please make yourselves at home, ignore the throbbing vein in my temple and the tears in my eyes. It was worth it for a few hours of normality, however short-lived they may be.
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