Last weeks was Jacks week off, A week off from what, I am not sure. I imagine as Jack sat at his desk, day dreaming about his week off, he would think to him self, ‘I can turn my alarm off, I can lie in, I can chill out, I can play on my PS4 all week, it’ll be bliss’. WRONG. See what Jack may not realise is that while he was sat at work all day dreaming about his week off, I have also been sat at home, day dreaming about his week off, ‘Jack can watch the baby while I shower, instead of her watching me shower, he can watch the baby while I tidy the house, he can watch the baby while I finally drink a cup of tea while it’s hot, I can have a lie in while Jack gets up with the baby’ etc etc. Sorry buddy, get yourself into Daddy mode because Mamas been looking forward to going to the loo without an audience and using TWO hands to eat a meal.
The week off ended up going nothing like either of us planned and ended with us as hermits hiding from the outside world. I’d made a nice list of fun family things we could do to get us into the winter spirit. A trip to the lakes, Christmas shopping, nice long walks with the dog…We ended up doing exactly NOTHING from my list, mainly because we were too tired but also because the Dogs Separation Anxiety makes it impossible for us to go out for the day. Echo has convinced himself that Violet and I need an escort in the form of a smelly Beagle, so wherever we go, he persists to follow. Every second of everyday. When we do leave, he attempts to try and dig himself out of the back room to try and locate us, not good for the laminate flooring, I can assure you.
So the week off went like this; Wake up, eat food, walk dog, eat food, binge watch Netflix, eat food and in between eating food, we did lots of nothing and ate snacks. There was also a lot of me moaning over the fact that Jack is a typical male. ‘Move your dishes, Put your clothes IN the laundry basket not ON it, No, don’t pretend to make the baby fly…’ etc etc. Part of me felt sorry for him and the other part of me laughed wildly at his naivety of thinking his week off was going to peaceful, especially with me as a girlfriend. I have this ability to wake up and go from 0-60 quicker than a Cheeter, bombarding him with lists I’ve been making mentally since 3am and information that’s irrelevant to him but he’s finally awake and I have someone to talk to, yay. I’m suddenly sat here questioning what he must see in me and make a mental note to ask him a million questions about it the second he wakes up, ‘Do I annoy you? Am I too much of morning person? Does my list making irritate you? WILL YOU LOVE ME FOREVER?! 🙃’. My god, I annoy myself.
So back to the week off. The dog walking quickly became the highlight of the day for me, fresh air and it was something all four of us could do and enjoy.In an attempt to use his week off to try and bond with Violet a bit more, Jack decided to take on the role of Baby Wearer. I remember thinking, ‘This is great, it gives my back a chance to recover’ until the day that is, that he almost squashed Violet and proceeded to shave 10 Year’s off my life in seconds.
To paint a picture, it was a frosty November morning and we were walking happily through the muddy fields of Silverdale, watching the dog frolic in the grass, eating sheep poo and heading down the hill towards a gate when all of a sudden Jack and his 6 foot long legs slipped (probably on poo), sending him tumbling down the hill taking Violet with him. My heart, which was now in my mouth, momentarily stopped as I watched him slide in slow motion, through the mud and continue to roll like a sausage down the hill all the while with Violet strapped to chest. All we needed was a woman named Jill to come tumbling after and it would have been a full on nursery rhyme tragedy.
In my mind she was being squashed like a pancake, crushed in the mud, knocked unconscious and a million other terrible things. When Jack managed to pick himself up it appeared the child had actually slept quite soundly through the whole debacle and was blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. Well. I looked at them both and burst into a form of laughter that involves choking back tears at the same time.
To be quite honest, it was bloody hilarious and utterly terrifying all in one go, but has now ruined my daily dog walking experience. I go out now less like a adventurer and more like an agoraphobic biddy leaving the house for the first time in years, fearful that danger lay waiting round ever corner and have now started walking like I’ve crapped my pants in an attempt to make sure my feet are firmly planted on the ground so we don’t have any repeat performances of ‘sausage rolled baby-gate’, as if being a parent wasn’t scary enough, my one catharsis has been ruined by a Bambi legged bugger who doesn’t watch where he’s stepping.
As an added anecdote to the tale of our once enjoyable dog walks, Echo decided to celebrate Jack’s week at home with some extra mischievous activities, such as eating the contents of our bedroom bin whenever we left the room. You can’t really enjoy walking the dog again once you’ve pulled a face wipe from your dogs arse in front of a group of strangers who are just trying to enjoy the view. Especially when it follows on from nearly squashing your child.
So, Looking forward to your next week off Jack? Yeah I think I know the answer to that one.
Violet, Echo, me and Jack and Jill