I read an article recently about how people's Facebook statuses are bathed in lies.
My cousin-in-law pointed this out when I posted the following pictures of a Saturday morning project on Facebook so I should preface the pics with an accurate description.
It's 5:16am. There are two little people in our bed. (In fact, would you consider it still 'in bed' when my legs are hanging over the side and the rest of my body is squished into the smidgen of bed that was once the only thing we had that we didn't have to share with our kids?)
I'm not complaining but my ribs are also sore from the dozen or so kicks I received in the night - an unfortunate consequence of P's reflexes.
There's snoring. Loud snoring.
And it's not my husband. It's not me. It's not our son. It's our two-year-old daughter.
I'm just trying to get some 'sleep' in those last few moments of the night when four-year-old B has a sudden urge to make an announcement "I need to do a poo!"
The snoring stops and at that moment B also decides to poke his sister in the cheek as a parting gift as he jumps up, launches himself across me, (another foot in the guts) and makes his way down the corridor to the bathroom screaming "MUMMYYYYY! Can you please turn on the bathroom light?"
Sure. I'm awake.
Skip forward to 8:00am. We've been awake almost three hours. The kids have watched their week's ration of television and we fooled ourselves in to thinking we had another couple of hours sleep.
I've whipped up bacon and eggs (fresh from the chookies), we've made good coffee and the newspaper's been delivered.
*sigh* I just love Saturdays. *sigh* I just love family time.
"What's that B? Oh. You've finished brekky?"
And I just sat down.
"And you want me to make you a knight's outfit?"
Sure. Why not? It's not as though I've even opened the newspaper yet.
My cousin-in-law pointed this out when I posted the following pictures of a Saturday morning project on Facebook so I should preface the pics with an accurate description.
It's 5:16am. There are two little people in our bed. (In fact, would you consider it still 'in bed' when my legs are hanging over the side and the rest of my body is squished into the smidgen of bed that was once the only thing we had that we didn't have to share with our kids?)
I'm not complaining but my ribs are also sore from the dozen or so kicks I received in the night - an unfortunate consequence of P's reflexes.
There's snoring. Loud snoring.
And it's not my husband. It's not me. It's not our son. It's our two-year-old daughter.
I'm just trying to get some 'sleep' in those last few moments of the night when four-year-old B has a sudden urge to make an announcement "I need to do a poo!"
The snoring stops and at that moment B also decides to poke his sister in the cheek as a parting gift as he jumps up, launches himself across me, (another foot in the guts) and makes his way down the corridor to the bathroom screaming "MUMMYYYYY! Can you please turn on the bathroom light?"
Sure. I'm awake.
Skip forward to 8:00am. We've been awake almost three hours. The kids have watched their week's ration of television and we fooled ourselves in to thinking we had another couple of hours sleep.
I've whipped up bacon and eggs (fresh from the chookies), we've made good coffee and the newspaper's been delivered.
*sigh* I just love Saturdays. *sigh* I just love family time.
"What's that B? Oh. You've finished brekky?"
And I just sat down.
"And you want me to make you a knight's outfit?"
Sure. Why not? It's not as though I've even opened the newspaper yet.
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