Awoke at some reasonable hour, after waking after some reasonable hours, what with sleeping in a room with four other Mums-on-the-loose.
Taking turns in showers, packing and swearing about lack of decent coffee, we head off to DFO and a cafe for breakfast … a variety bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, spinach, tomato … and a plethora of Very Large Lattes. All prepared by someone else, which made it even better.
It was after breakfast that we tearily departed ways, much hugs and clinging on so as not to have to go home.
With good reason, it seems, as I am greeted by eldest child racing out to car as I’m backing into the garage; *sob* “I don’t want to go to gymnastics comp this afternoon.”
And I’m really tired and have had Such FUN this last week that I really don’t want to have the feeling ruined for me before I get into the house.
Spend several hours and various methods to get Monkey Boy into right headspace for competition. Damn I hate perfectionist kids with high expectations of themselves. Particularly when so tired and haven’t had the headspace or ability to think clearly enough to not say something profoundly stupid.
We farewell Grumpy then off we go to sit in large, cold factory-type setting to watch some reasonably bad boys gymnastics, Monkey Boy tries on some after-the-event “so, do I get a present for going today?” and we head home for dinner.
Where I finally get a moment to sit and discover my very sore throat, my aching body and my levels of sheer fatigue.
Not sick … just the sign of a bloody good night out!