Dh is going to The North for a stag do tomorrow. For three days. The last time he went on a stag weekend (to Barce-fricking-LONA!) the girls were four months old and ill. I sent him off with my blessing and cursed him loudly on his return.
Four years on…R and G aren’t ill (yet), I’m significantly less sleep-deprived (and mental) that I was back then and I’ve called in reinforcements. The girls and I have plans on Saturday (fingers crossed) and Sunday (pretty much nailed on) and as I have the car for the weekend I’ll probably take them out tomorrow afternoon to get Mother’s Day bits and pieces.
Dh forwarded me the itinerary for the weekend and it is, frankly, terrifying. It’s also extremely organised: travel, drink, eat, drink, sleep, eat, go kart, drink, eat, drink, sleep, eat, travel, DIE. I’ll expect an extremely sleep-deprived, smelly and hungover husk of a husband back on Sunday evening and will immediately let the children loose on him.
I suspect that the girls will be a bit grumpy when he departs tomorrow afternoon and R might have moments of sadness throughout the weekend (she has a tendency to go quiet for a bit, snuggle up to me and whisper ‘I miss Daddy’ when he’s not here) but G is more accepting of change so I think she’ll be ok. Hopefully keeping them (and me) nice and busy all weekend will help.