One of the most useful phrases in the English language, given I am constantly 'late, for a very important date' or behind with uhmm, everything.
Struggled to drag my bones out of bed on Easter Sunday morn, on account of wine drunk on Holy Saturday and the impending doom of work that afternoon. Two of the four were up concerned that the Easter Bunny hadn't been and were distressed at being 'choclateless'.
I reassured them that he, the Easter Bunny, wouldn't have left them out and had without doubt hidden their eggs very well as not to distract them from going to Mass. The other two were doing Oscar worthy corpse impressions under their duvets.
I eventually raised myself from my pit mimicking Optimus Prime, showered and burst through the big two children's doors 'Towering Inferno' style shouting 'get up, it's twenty to eleven you've got ten minutes for breakfast and a wash'.
Married to an atheist makes the mad Mass dash much more frantic as you get little or no help mobilising the troops. I would say this is conscious objection on his part: he would disagree. Perhaps I'm being unfair and it's subconscious but I doubt it. When at quarter past eleven we still haven't left he takes great pleasure in asking 'is it even worth going?'. To this I should simply reply 'better late than never' but I don't and start ranting and swearing at him to the tune of 'why does it bother you so much that I AM late, YOU'RE not late, I AM'. On occasions it would be fair to say that when I married I didn't enter into an equal union, I simply acquired another parent hence the regression to stroppy teenager.
Number three child remarked on how happy he was to have missed the 'boring' part of Mass, so that would imply we at least arrived for the 'important' part. Having missed the Liturgy of the Word, younger members of the family still felt they had too long to endure before the priest furnished them with Easter eggs!
I arrived home to find the atheist in his dressing gown and unshowered at half past twelve. When interrogated as to what he'd been doing, 'nothing much' was all I got back. This was clearly evident as the house still had the appearance of having been burgled. I set to, having a spare half hour before setting off to work. Let's face it no one else was going to do it.
Five minutes before I was due to leave I realised I'd not eaten and was panicked by the uncertainty of when an opportunity to do so might next arise. Dear daughter kindly made me a coffee to go and some toast to put me on, thankfully. Work was work and I looked forward to a small glass of vino and a roasty toasty courtesy of my sister on my way home.
My sister nearly always makes me feel better about life, loving and welcoming - hospitable is her middle name. Most of all she is funny and makes me laugh. Her most enviable and irritating quality, depending on your mood, is her ability to 'always look on the bright side of life'. Needless to say my mother had taken up residence in her house, as per and my funny nieces hadn't yet gone to bed.
It was interesting to receive their feedback on my blog although my sister's description that it was 'a cross between 'The Walton's and Mother Theresa' made me think I wasn't quite as articulate as my eldest niece was surprised to consider me. My mother's disinterest and disapproval of all things cyber and interest in all things Catholic, meant the conversation digressed in the direction of Mother Theresa.
Feeling the need to entertain my nieces I 'be-wimpled' myself with the serviettes from the dinner table. Everyone was in agreement 'I'd have made a lovely nun'. 'Sr. Mary Do As You Like' was my mother's preferred religious name for me and well if the cap, or rather the wimple fits wear it, I say.
Holy Saturday I had watched Philomena whilst wironing (ironing whilst drinking wine), a film that would 'bring tears to a glass eye.' My youngest niece questioned me as to it's content. Thankfully or not, my mother took the floor and explained the intricacies of the evils of the Catholic Church in relation to 'fallen' women or rather unmarried mothers. I probably would have made taking babies from their mothers and persecuting them for having succumbed to love or their physical needs sound a lot less normal than my mother did but maybe that's just a generational thing. However normal she made it sound, watching Philomena is now top of my mother's 'to do list' and I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't coerce my sister into taking her shopping to purchase it today!
If I'd been a nun back in the day I think I'd have been part of the resistance movement, smuggling babies to a place of safety until they could be reunited with their mothers. I'd be like Schindler but a nun!
I reassured them that he, the Easter Bunny, wouldn't have left them out and had without doubt hidden their eggs very well as not to distract them from going to Mass. The other two were doing Oscar worthy corpse impressions under their duvets.
I eventually raised myself from my pit mimicking Optimus Prime, showered and burst through the big two children's doors 'Towering Inferno' style shouting 'get up, it's twenty to eleven you've got ten minutes for breakfast and a wash'.
Married to an atheist makes the mad Mass dash much more frantic as you get little or no help mobilising the troops. I would say this is conscious objection on his part: he would disagree. Perhaps I'm being unfair and it's subconscious but I doubt it. When at quarter past eleven we still haven't left he takes great pleasure in asking 'is it even worth going?'. To this I should simply reply 'better late than never' but I don't and start ranting and swearing at him to the tune of 'why does it bother you so much that I AM late, YOU'RE not late, I AM'. On occasions it would be fair to say that when I married I didn't enter into an equal union, I simply acquired another parent hence the regression to stroppy teenager.
Number three child remarked on how happy he was to have missed the 'boring' part of Mass, so that would imply we at least arrived for the 'important' part. Having missed the Liturgy of the Word, younger members of the family still felt they had too long to endure before the priest furnished them with Easter eggs!
I arrived home to find the atheist in his dressing gown and unshowered at half past twelve. When interrogated as to what he'd been doing, 'nothing much' was all I got back. This was clearly evident as the house still had the appearance of having been burgled. I set to, having a spare half hour before setting off to work. Let's face it no one else was going to do it.
Five minutes before I was due to leave I realised I'd not eaten and was panicked by the uncertainty of when an opportunity to do so might next arise. Dear daughter kindly made me a coffee to go and some toast to put me on, thankfully. Work was work and I looked forward to a small glass of vino and a roasty toasty courtesy of my sister on my way home.
My sister nearly always makes me feel better about life, loving and welcoming - hospitable is her middle name. Most of all she is funny and makes me laugh. Her most enviable and irritating quality, depending on your mood, is her ability to 'always look on the bright side of life'. Needless to say my mother had taken up residence in her house, as per and my funny nieces hadn't yet gone to bed.
It was interesting to receive their feedback on my blog although my sister's description that it was 'a cross between 'The Walton's and Mother Theresa' made me think I wasn't quite as articulate as my eldest niece was surprised to consider me. My mother's disinterest and disapproval of all things cyber and interest in all things Catholic, meant the conversation digressed in the direction of Mother Theresa.
Feeling the need to entertain my nieces I 'be-wimpled' myself with the serviettes from the dinner table. Everyone was in agreement 'I'd have made a lovely nun'. 'Sr. Mary Do As You Like' was my mother's preferred religious name for me and well if the cap, or rather the wimple fits wear it, I say.
Holy Saturday I had watched Philomena whilst wironing (ironing whilst drinking wine), a film that would 'bring tears to a glass eye.' My youngest niece questioned me as to it's content. Thankfully or not, my mother took the floor and explained the intricacies of the evils of the Catholic Church in relation to 'fallen' women or rather unmarried mothers. I probably would have made taking babies from their mothers and persecuting them for having succumbed to love or their physical needs sound a lot less normal than my mother did but maybe that's just a generational thing. However normal she made it sound, watching Philomena is now top of my mother's 'to do list' and I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't coerce my sister into taking her shopping to purchase it today!
If I'd been a nun back in the day I think I'd have been part of the resistance movement, smuggling babies to a place of safety until they could be reunited with their mothers. I'd be like Schindler but a nun!