Family life is nothing if not changeable. What looks a dead cert at 9am on Moday is cancelled/delayed/forgotten about by midday, and plans – even the best laid ones – gang aglay faster than my allegedly waterproof marcara dribbles its black way down my cheeks every time I brave the local swimming pool.
My strategy for getting by without losing every single hair on my head (though the grey ones could happily go, if they want to….) is to make very, very rough plans, and then be prepared to change them ooooooh, about every two hours, at the present rate.
A case in point is the looming Easter holidays. There are people out there, I’ve heard, who plan, book and organise their holidays not weeks but months, and even in some serious cases YEARS, in advance. I am not sniffy about these people at all – I am in awe of their organisational skills. But when I even attempt such impressive forward-planning and then throw 3 kids, 2 jobs, 1 husband, no dog but a small and needy hamster into the mix I get what could safely be described as a complete cock-up.
Here’s my latest one: we had planned to go to Scotland for the first week of the Easter hols this year. The accommodation is booked, Granny is beside herself with excitement and we are counting down the days. And then what happens yesterday? My daughter announces that her dancing competition final (for which she has been training twice a week before school for 3 months, and her excitement about it is now reaching fever pitch – ie we are NOT going to miss it!!) is on the day we are due to leave, I am given an important hospital appointment slap bang in the middle of our planned week away and a job I’ve been waiting for for months crops up for that week as well!
And so we do what all families do in such hectic circumstances: we cancel all plans, and hope to go away the week after.
Families eh – never a dull moment!
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