An easy bank holiday weekend beckons

Let the bank holiday chaos commence

It’s just dawned on me, it’s the actual bank holiday weekend. A weekend greeted by the most of the population as three days off, three days of pure pleasure.

Not two days, not a normal weekend BUT THREE…THREE days, three whole days of no work…

And then it dawned on me…this weekend has got chaos written all over it.

Chaos that commenced yesterday.

Yesterday the stupid D.O.G went under the knife in a dramatic operation…when I say dramatic she was having her bits removed..some may see that as routine. In my house with two small things who worry about the dog’s every movement, it was dramatic.

Dropping her off at the vets on Thursday morning was nothing short of a traumatic separation. 

Separation anxiety that mainly oozed from every dog paw (see what I did there?)

As myself and the 9 year old left her standing forlorn in the vet’s surgery, as she watched me with sad eyes pass the lead over to a stranger and leave her alone to face the knife, as she cried and whined as we left the vets, as the 9 year old blinked back the tears, I knew the return of the D.O.G was going to be a family trauma.

So as every good dog owner does, I rang (from my meeting, professional as ever) to check if said dog had died on the table. Luckily said dog had survived and was ready for pick up at 4.30pm – the same time I was due to pick the 9 year old up from cross country and 20 minutes before the hired hot tub was due to arrive for the 13 year old’s birthday party…yep hot tub.

So like every self respecting working mum, I threw 12 balls up into the air and hoped to catch at least one nine (year old). 

Amazingly it all worked with precision timing. 

Not only did I remember to text the 13 year old (again from said meeting) to tell her I wouldn’t be in when she got home from school (I may have forgotten that small detail in the morning chaos of the dramatic dog drop off), I left my meeting on time with some semblance of professional integrity, I got to school with 22 seconds to spare before cross country ended, dropped friend of 9 year old at home (again may have forgotten that I had promised to drop said friend off, but luckily the small things remembered), arrived home to greet 13 year old (who was of course slumped on couch with instagram a go go) met hot tub delivery man, left hot tub delivery man  in my garden to set up said hot tub to pick up very sad, sorry for herself conehead and returned home.

Donning my veterinary nurses attire, I settled conehead with the small things and went to check on the hot tub delivery.

And all this before 5.12pm.

In the amount of time that it had taken to pick up conehead and listen to very specific instructions on how to care for dog patient (including not letting the jumpiest dog in the world, not jump for TEN DAYS), the back garden had been transformed into a chavtastic homage to 13 year old birthday party heaven.

A hot tub, a giant connect 4, a marquee, a floating bar for the hot tub – and some more very specific instructions on how to ensure the hot tub keeps working for the entire weekend.

In the space of 20 minutes (whilst still wearing meeting attire) I had received two sets of very important instructions to ensure this weekend goes safely and without dog death whilst dealing with two hysterical small things who cannot cope with conehead’s sadness.

The instructions have since merged and in my head go something like this:

  • there is a button I must not press on the hot tub as it could blow the entire street up (no idea which button)
  • there is a button I must not turn off otherwise said hot tub will mainly be a cold tub
  • there will be bubbles if I can find the bubbles button
  • in the event of high winds and the marquee blows away, it’s my fault
  • the dog must not go in hot tub – or just must not jump. If conehead jumps and burst stitches, the cost to restitch is £400
  • Conehead must wear cone at all times especially when not swimming and not jumping in hot tub
  • Children must not be drunk in hot tub
  • No jumping in hot tub from bedroom window
  • Conehead must not jump from bedroom window
  • Something about filters and chemicals
  • Dog must eat – something about medicine and eating – or was that chemicals and eating

Anyway, there’s some instructions in order to maintain safety this weekend. 

So finally last night, I remembered to feed the small things, the small things remembered to feed conehead with some medicine and I forgot to go for a run – but luckily running partner came round with much needed wine.

And so the start of the much awaited long weekend beckons – and I have still to buy appropriate 13 year old schiz to accessorise said party (this shopping list really mainly involves wine for me so I can cope with eight 13 year olds in my back garden shrieking OMG and LOLZ).

I’m sure it will all go to plan.  I’m sure the dog will be fine – and I’m sure the hot tub will be hot at the appointed hour – possibly.

Anyway – thank crunchie it’s a long weekend and I can recover …. with conehead, a birthday party for eight 13 year olds, a hot tub in my garden and a family barbecue.

Pass me the wine.

Sarah Knight

Trainer and coach in communications. Plate spinner.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *