It’s fair to say, we are not naturally organised people, my husband and I. You know those families that are always late for things and turn up to kids’ birthday parties with a present wrapped in tinfoil? That’s us. But recently, we’ve made a conscious effort to organise our family time, thinking it may lead to a path of happiness, calm and some sort of order.
This week my formerly scatty husband set up an extra bank account, to keep track of our family spends of all the boring stuff (food, electricity, that kind of thing). He also started ordering all our weekly shop online. For my part, I’ve reduced some of my workload, giving me more time to tackle the monster that is my laundry basket before the weekend and attempt to whizz a hoover around the house.
The plan is to make weekends about spending time together as a family, actually doing things, rather than all being in the house at the same time, trying to get on with our respective “stuff” that needs to be done before the weekend is over. It will mean more time together, giving us more time to do our own thing if we want to, making as more happy and relaxed. Or so the theory goes.
Many a Saturday morning is spent in our house in pyjama’s, attempting to get washing on, make breakfast, clear up toys, write a shopping list and answer emails. It can easily be 1pm before we’ve got ourselves in gear to do anything, by which time our toddler is thoroughly hacked off. And then the tantrums begin. It’s not just us, right?
Yesterday began in pyjamas, but didn’t involve shopping lists or laundry. We had a spot of breakfast before venturing out into the countryside at our back door.
Despite the blue sky, the cold weather nipped at our bare fingers and noses, leaving trails of wispy breath in the air when we spoke.
But it was beautiful.
Frog jumped out of her pushchair and tumbled off like a dog on a lead, bowling across the huge expanse of grass, seeking out the muddy bits.
Finding some waterlogged ground next to the lake, we watched as our two and half year old spent at least ten minutes running through it, relishing the sound of the water splashing against her wellies.
This was far more fun than juggling emails with laundry and a grumpy toddler.
Every now and again, Frog would lie on the ground, looking up at the puffs of cloud moving above her, across a brilliantly blue expanse. Her excited arms flapped as she laughed at the freedom of rolling around on the muddy ground, watching the sky. And we laughed too.
Perhaps being organised isn’t such a bad idea after all.