Mothering Sunday

I look forward with hope to tomorrow when I can lie in bed, read a book in peace, wait for my breakfast in bed and snooze on and off until my own mother arrives and needs some pampering. In reality I know the scenario will be- Awake in the gathering light of dawn with child number one either breathing over me or calling me. Feed Baby and wait patiently for husband to wake up. Give up waiting and start nudging him, stop before I get too cross, go downstairs, carryout usual routine of breakfast, letting dog out, washing up etc before I take children upstairs, get them dressed and wait not so patiently for husband to awake, before losing my temper, declaring Mother's Day is ruined, and stomping to the living room to endure the delights of Cbeebies for some time before husband emerges apologising, and makes me a cup of tea, not before, however, having a cigarette and drinking the coffee I made him. In his defence he is a chef and will work until an undecent hour tonight, and I am hopeful I have just described a worst case scenario. In my defence I just want a lie in after eons of sleeplessness and a bit of pampering. And if I don't get it I can maybe hang on to the fact that my best friend has bought me a pamper day to accompany her on her 's that she got as a Christmas Present. What a star!!!!