2 days, 6 countries, 1 car, 2 small boys, 850 miles and 1 secret to succesfully enduring the ordeal

We're back. The house is officially a catastrophe and buried under piles of laundry. The dog is furious with being left behind and sulking by the front door. The boys are back in nursery. I'm having my first proper (i.e. sludge at the bottom) coffee in weeks. And, finally, a chance to sneak back into the blogosphere whilst ignoring the colossal number of things that I should be doing to take a chance to wish every one a very Happy New Year.

We had ever such a lovely time. Christmas was filled with great food, good wine (so exciting), excited children and tipsy adults playing games very competitively. Perfect. The boys raced around with their cousins proving the bizarre theory that the more children there are, the less work it is. Secretly wonder whether we should have more children to try and reduce my workload before remembering the exception to the rule, which is that the other children must not be siblings. New Years was dominated by skiing, and having put the boys into French ski school in the mornings, Dave and I had plenty of opportunity to blow the cobwebs away racing each other down the slopes before chasing the boys all afternoon. Somewhat surprisingly, the boys took to skis like a duck to water and Adam was already heard to say to my Mum 'Come On! Catch Up!' as he pegged it down the nursery slope executing a couple of nifty turns on the way. It won't be long before we can't catch them at all.

We drove back last night. 6 countries in 2 days is not to be taken lightly. In no particular order they were

Switzerland: Used to Bosnian prices, Switzerland was quite a shock. We had bought with us a huge stash of Bosnian meat (which is excellent by the way!) which probably halved the cost of the holiday.

France: France. So lovely. So many cheeses to take home with us. Such a smell radiating out from the back of the car. Wonderful. We might have sneaked in a bottle or two of fine red wine and some champagne to offset the pain of going back to drinking Croatian Vranac (red) and Krstic (white) until we go home. Now we just have to decide whether to ration ourselves or to blow the lot in one evening of excess.

Italy: Italian drivers have made me rethink my assertion that Bosnian drivers are dangerous. The Italians take it to a whole new level.

Slovenia: Definite candidate for where we would like to live for when we embark on that dream of buying that old wreck in a spectacular setting to do up. European (in the Euro and everything, with really good motorways too), beautiful, skiing, lots of spectacular national parks, not much coast, but plenty of lakes. Kind of like the best bits of Bosnia without the pain. Yes, we like Slovenia.

Croatia: Sadly not the pretty coast bit, but the bit that goes across the top which is rather flat and not all that interesting.

Bosnia: Hitting Bosnia after spending 2 days driving at 120km/hr (80 mph) was like sticking the handbrake on. The motorways disappear. The top speed is 80km/hr (50 mph) but most of the time is spent at 60km (40mph) trying to avoid the plethora of traffic police out with their speed guns. Seriously, it must have been their New Years Resolution, they were everywhere.


And the secret to success? I've always been against them in a we didn't have them so why should they, it is good for them to get bored, we'll do so much else in the car without them kind of way. But, there is a big difference between a 3 hour drive and a 15 hour one. So, In Car DVD player with screen for each boy, I fall worshipping at your feet. For you kept them happy, not fighting (much), not hitting each other (much) and allowed us adults to do a couple of the 'what do you remember of the last decade quizzes'. It turns out that we don't remember all that much. That's what parenthood and sleep deprivation do for you.

Postcards to my family*

Dear Boys,

Please leave my laundry alone. In particular please do not do any of the following:

1. post a felt tip pen into the laundry basket which will then leak bright orange all over my favourite skirt and the only decent white shirt that I have left.
2. Pull over the clothes horse when there is clean drying laundry on it. I know it makes a great den. But I need the laundry clean and dry.
3. Pull it over again when I have already told you not to do it.
4. Throw around clean and dry laundry that is folded ready to be put away.

Thanks for listening to me, I will appreciate it,
Love,
Mummy.

*******

Dear Boys,

If you want to go and play with the sprinkler I think this is a great idea. However, you do need to put on swimming stuff if you are going to get wet. This is not a trauma. Moreover, once your swimming stuff is on, do not to take it off before we even get outside, it just makes me cross, particularly if you then run around laughing dementedly.

Love,
Mummy.

*******
Dear Jess,

I know that you a are retriever and therefore predisposed to pick things up. But, please don't invade the clean laundry pile to do this. In particular please stop taking guests any of my underwear, or take my underwear outside and scatter it in the garden. Please also stop leaving one sock outside, the Bosnian tradition of taking your shoes off means that I do need to pair socks and I can't do this when one is buried in the flower bed.

Thank you,
The one that feeds you.

*******
Dear Boys,

Mummy is not a climbing frame. Really. I also have a really bad back. So, I'm really not joking when I say that I'm not a climbing frame.

Thank you,
Mummy

*********
Dear Boys,

Sometimes I can't do the same conversation more than 10 times in any given 15 minute period. So I apologize if my eyes glaze over and go a bit squiffy. When you are an adult you will understand.

Love,
Mummy.

**********

Dear Dave,

There is no magic fairy who picks up your clothes and puts them in the laundry basket. It is me. I appreciate this may come as a shock. I'm also the fairy who picks up the stuff that has been dumped in the middle of the floor and puts stuff in the rubbish bin.

Your ever loving wife.

*******
Dear Boys,

Cooking is hard. Cooking dinner that you will both eat is even harder. Cooking a dinner that you will both eat whilst at least one of you is whinging, hanging off my leg and the other is waving the wrong end of a mop in my face is near impossible. Managing to stay calm in this situation is never going to happen.

Love,
Mummy.

******
Dear Luke,

Please stop switching all the buttons on the washing machine. It is on its last legs as it is. And I don't think I can take another boil wash with clothes that aren't able to do it.

Love,
Mummy

********
Dear Boys,

I am not as obsessed with laundry as it appears. At least I don't think I am.

Love,
Mummy

*********
Dear Boys,

When I tell you not to do something it is generally because someone is going to get hurt if you carry on. Whilst I appreciate that you need to learn the boundaries and limits, I would prefer it if we didn't need to take trips to the hospital to do so. Also, I'm your Mummy, I love you and I don't want to see you hurt. So, when I say don't do something, don't do it!

Love,
Mummy.

PS - for extra bonus points, it is also best not to look at Mummy whilst doing whatever it is that you have just been told not to do. That will really send me off on a whirling she banshee like rant.

*******
Dear Boys,

Carrying on a theme here, when I say DO something, best to do it. Preferably straight away. Certainly I'd prefer it if I didn't have to ask you 30 times before losing the plot to get you to put your shoes on/clean your teeth/sit down for dinner.

Love,
Mummy

********
Dear Adam,

When you deliberately set out to wind up your brother it has the effect of also winding your mother. Better all round if you don't do it in the first place.

Love,
Mummy

*********

Dear Luke,

If you wake up at 3.30am and insist that Mummy comes to see you and insist that Mummy also stay awake with you until 5.30am then please don't expect Mummy to be happy, bright and full of energy the next day. Particularly if the day is 40C plus. Mummy doesn't get the opportunity to nap in the middle of the day. Best to go back to sleep yourself, 3.30am is the middle of the night whichever way you look at it.

Love,
Your very tired Mummy.

*********
Dear Boys,

I'm sorry if I get very grumpy, cross and shout quite a lot. I honestly do try my best to be a good Mummy. I love you both ever so much, you are both the sweetest, cheekiest, loveliest little boys I know. I wake every morning promising myself that I will and do my very very very best for you, be the best Mummy that I can. Some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. All I can promise is that every day I will keep trying.

All my love and for all time
Mummy.


**********

Dear Dave,

Thank you for everything you do. Even if I don't mention it at the time every time you cook dinner, come home early to rescue me from insanity, take the boys out for an hour to give me a break and doing their bathtimes pretty much every day I deeply deeply appreciate it. This bringing up children lark is tougher than we thought, but I love that we are doing it together and think we are not doing too badly. It is all the more fun for having you as the partner on the ride.

I love you.

PS - I still mean it about the laundry though. x

**********


*with a big acknowledgement to the amazing Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow who has a regular Dear So and So feature that I just love. As an aside she is also running a giveaway to celebrate her blogoversary (terrible word that, or is it just me?) which, unlike most bloggy give aways, has something that I quite like - so if you are looking for some really nice diaper/nappy bags then click here and enter.