Peter left for Brazil ten days ago, and we have been camped out at my parents' place since Sunday. I've been rolling out of bed and rushing out the door in time for an 8:00 start at work (or an early morning row). Meme and Pepe have born the brunt of the daily routine. Get dressed, eat breakfast, pack lunches, apply sunscreen, walk Jasper to camp, take Josie on an excursion, retrieve Jasper at camp, take kids to swim lessons, return home for down time, make dinner. At which point I resurface for the evening routine of dinner, bath, books (Harry Potter among others), bed. Certainly my parents enjoy their grand-children, but it's a far cry from their normal routine, and I have been worried that they would exhaust themselves. They show no signs of folding, but just in case I decided to vacate the premises this weekend and return to our own home, which has been all but entirely over-run by mice, granting them 24 hours leave. Everyone needs a day off.
Parents are great, but it will be so good to have a husband again.
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