Holibobs

A week away with the DDs in the lovely St Ives was a very welcome change of scenery. I’m very grateful to be able to have nearly a year off for maternity, and to work part time when I do return, but I have to admit I’m ready to be going back. I’m looking forward to having a few days a week where I have a name. An actual name… that’s the dream. Tasks that have a completion. Can you imagine? Not 18 years in the future but now, bliss.

So this holiday was well timed and I am totally sold on St Ives. I started house hunting, then lottery ticket buying, then wondering if Poldark would just put us up for a while. It turns out Poldark isn’t a documentary, there was no shirtless scything and nights away with infants can be pretty hit and miss.

Really a holiday is doing all the things I would normally do but in a more inconvenient setting. Some things are better than at home; beaches, boat rides, other children for the MD to terrorise, new smells for the pooches and new sights for us.

Some things are the same like this cherub’s sun seeking and that cherub’s mess making:

Some things are worse, attempting bedtime was akin to opening Pandora’s box, and others just have a holiday twist…

Me: I’m going to get the food so the kids are yours for a few minutes

Him: Okay

Me: You need to turn your chair slightly so you can see them

Him: But then I won’t get an even tan

I loved it though and immediately booked for next year.

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