Everybody speculates and anticipates over the weekend don’t they. I think its fair to say that weather wise this one has been pretty miserable, there hasn’t been much scope or inclination to do much. Younger boys’ football training was cancelled yesterday. Luckily older boy managed to play his match today. Afterwards we went for a family lunch to our local cafe. Things didn’t bode well at the outset. The boys were arguing about who is the best footballer, who is the fittest, who is the fattest, you name it. They then predictably went on to argue about whose turn it was to sit in the front seat. Luckily by the time we arrived, they seemed to be in a marginally better humour.
I always joke that the cafe is basically a feeding point for the animals. I’m not a big fan, as although I am something of a foodie, I’m not really a fan of the English breakfast. Indeed beans and eggs are two of my most hated foods. The boys were not allowed to sit next to each other cause of their habit of fighting, they had to sit diagonally instead. Things worked out well though and we actually had some nice conversations which included asking what my Mum looked like, what their Dad’s Dad had looked like and older boy asked how much of a stomach ache I had when I was giving birth to him. All of these questions were answered honestly and we came away with a doggy bag which for once was intended for the dog, not for the husband.
Weekends are something which change as babyhood, childhood, preteenagehood and beyond evolve. For us, family trips out are something of a rarity as my husband works shifts and football has a tendency to dominate.
Sometimes I look back with nostalgia at weekends when the boys were younger, the main reason being that I got to decide what to do. Frequently I would take the kids up to London for the day and we would go to one of the museums or other tourist attractions. I knew things were on the turn a couple of years ago when I suggested going to the Roald Dahl museum (yes I know this isn’t in London) and older boy retorted that he would rather get killed. These days if I ever suggest a trip out somewhere, it invariably goes down like a lead balloon but I have pretty much resigned myself to this. Older boy doesn’t get dressed on a Saturday if he can avoid it, he chooses instead to sit all day in his pants and dressing gown playing on the Xbox. This is something else that I have come to terms with.
I’m sure that at some point weekends will be governed by late nights out (for the boys) and random people sleeping over at our house. It might even get to the stage when I can make my own plans and go out on a Saturday to catch an exhibition or similar. In the meantime I will strive to enjoy the more low-key weekends that we are experiencing at the moment, at least I get the opportunity to catch up on chores and work. In times gone by these were the sort of weekends that I dreamt of.