Sunday, August 7

Have we really come to this?

I am sitting here in absolute disbelief.  Astounded at what I am listening to.

But first let me set the scene a little

As a rule we don't really watch a lot of television.  It is still more than I would really like them to watch but the convenience and time it provides me with is very hard to give up.  Though I am seriously reassessing that as we speak.

Despite the disaster zone that is our house hubs and I have elected for a slow lazy start to the morning with a designated joint start time to tackle the monstrosity of work that needs to be done.  Since I hustled the kidlets downstairs yesterday morning with little disturbance to him, enabling him to have an extra hour and bit of sleep, this morning was his turn to get up first.

DD3 woke up just before 7 (which I know I shouldn't complain about but 8 would have been nicer)  I knew there was no point feeding her as the reason for her waking was to do a wee. I lifted her up and over to hubs who was doing his very best to pretend he was still sleeping, and returned my head to my pillow to do the same.  DD2 was in the middle of all this just waiting for the signal to jump out of bed and start the day (don't you just love the enthusiasm of a five year old?)

Before I knew it DD2 was crawling back to me and snuggling up.  All was silent as I lay there wondering what would happen next.  Hubs was gently poking my back saying that the baby had gone back to sleep.  I could feel her limp body against my head but I just couldn't buy her actually being asleep.  At 16 months old she generally wakes dry but she can only hold it in for so long.  I was not going to risk moving to look at her face myself to see whether she really was sleeping or just snoozing so I trusted hubs is judgement and began to will myself back to sleep, still somewhat doubtful about the child next to me but hey if it looks like a stick...

The position that DD3 had selected to jam herself up against me in was far from comfortable but I was just going to have to deal with it.  After about five minutes my worst fears were realised and my sleep in destroyed.  DD3 was sitting up and chatting away.  Reluctantly I dragged myself out from underneath the covers and took DD3 to the toilet.  Which actually involves walking all the way down stairs.  At which point I realise that I am probably not going back to bed so I may as well say good morning to Sunday.

Once the toileting needs of both DD3 and myself are seen to I wander into the lounge room to investigate what everyone else is up to.  Not only is DD2 snuggled up on the bean bag watching the dreaded box but hubs is stretched out on the couch, eyes closed and looking more asleep than what I had even come close to.

Letting out a bit of a sigh I headed to the kitchen and popped the kettle on.

In a bid to put a bit of a positive spin to it all I decided that for many mother's 7.45 on a Sunday morning could very well be considered as a late sleep in. So with the washing machine filling up and fresh coffee in hand I sat down in front of the computer reading for some quality blogging time while I waited for it to be time to clean.

I was trying hard not to pay attention to the noise coming from the TV.  Recent weeks have seen my tolerance for the dreaded box decrease greatly.  I tried to console myself with the fact that at least it is the ABC channel, you know the one considered 'educational'.  The time honoured Sesame Street was playing.  Surely it can't be all that bad? Can it?

Oh yes.  Much worse than I have ever suspected actually.

As I sat there trying to think of something readable to write a little furry creature was dancing around telling me the importance of washing my hair.  Seriously.  

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