Remember, when I was so very hopeless

This mother and I have the kind of friendship where you can tell each other anything.. and we do.

Because we’re all on holidays we ended the play-date in the late afternoon with margaritas at my house where both our partners joined us.

These are the Christmas holidays, after all.

Bill and I have been longing for uninterrupted time in our new house so we’ve forced the children to mostly just hang with us at home this Christmas. They’re pretty much bored silly with that now and anyway, Bill goes back to work tomorrow.

Without the daily schedule of work and school, nor even of many social engagements, a sense of time has slipped from our lives – the kids get to watch too much TV and Bill and I (try to) have morning sex and then Bill naps in the middle of the day, and sometimes he and Cormac nap too long and then Cormac doesn’t fall asleep until almost ten at night and I don’t care because I’m already in bed reading a book by then. And it is all quite lovely, with the children doing somersaults on the lawn, when Bill and I drink a cocktail while locking up the hens for the night and getting the washing in, and I blog like, now, when the kids should be in bed but they still haven’t washed the sand off themselves from the day at the beach and we could just hose them while they jump on the trampoline instead. (Although, by the time I actually post this both children are stretched out asleep in our bed).

And I really can’t believe how far away this last week of December was from the first weeks of December.