So this weekend we had a girls only day. And no, sadly that didn’t mean a spot of brunch, a mani – pedi and some retail therapy. I had a day on my own with the twins. Just the three of us. Me hopelessly outnumbered by some (very nearly) two-year olds.
Twins Daddy had taken the Big Brother on an organised desert drive. They left around 7am and weren’t due back until at least 9pm. So how best to fill the day?
I started with an optimistic telly in bed session. We watched Mr Benn together with cups of milk; they demanded seconds, then moved onto a chant for “porritch”. I suggested that maybe we could watch a full episode (all 13 minutes of it), before breakfast; therefore giving twinsmummy time to drink her tea and read at least 4 pages of the newspaper, but no, they were insistent. Porritch is was.
My next cunning plan was to create an appetite whilst simultaneously exhausting them with a trip to the soft play area in Magic Planet. It worked a treat. We ran, we climbed, we fell over… a lot, and I denied all knowledge of ‘snacks’ in the hope they’d be ravenous by 11.30.
We trooped into Carluccio’s and for a moment, as I grappled the two of them into high chairs and watched helplessly as one emptied the salt bowl, and the other started flinging the sugar sachets onto the next table; whether it might have been simpler to just take them home for lunch.
But then I remembered that it would be me on the floor clearing the debris afterwards, and decided that at least this way, someone who was getting paid had the pleasure instead.
I optimistically ordered lasagna for them. Not something we’ve tried before. The brunette approved. The blonde was unimpressed. So, the brunette enjoyed seconds, whilst the blonde ate crayons and bread sticks.
I chose finger food only, hopeful that I’d be getting at least some of the lasagna (no chance!); and a hot drink that I had to leave on the other side of the table to avoid the temptation of small hands. I did such a good job of removing it from their consciousness that I consequently forgot all about it, realising only once it was stone cold.
Note to self, when dining alone with toddlers, order cold drinks only. Preferably large and alcoholic.
The ice cream was much more of a success. So much so that there was much screaming when the bowl was emptied. I’d been synchronised-spooning it into both mouths at the same time so it hadn’t taken us long to clear the lot. Fortunately, there was a woman at the next table doing face painting which provided enough of a distraction for me to pack up our belongings and down the cold coffee.
I glanced briefly down at the floor and was pleased to see that it wasn’t our worst effort. Sure, they’ll still be chiseling the pasta off the tiles in a week’s time, but at least the granulated sugar can be hoovered up quite quickly, right?
The excitement of the morning proved too much for my two who both zonked out during the 10 minute drive home.
I delicately laid them both in their cots and crept downstairs to enjoy the first peace of the day and an unaccompanied trip to the toilet.
It was 1.07 pm.
What on earth to do for the next 6 hours?