Other than the initial hiccup, it was sorta like a week with a live in nanny, cook and cleaner because they tend to not let us do anything when we stay with them... which suits me very well. I'm sure in a previous life I was uber rich and had servants because it just comes so naturally to me to let people do stuff for me.
Some people call it lazy, I call it delegating.
But I don't come back from holidays looking rested and serene with an ethereal glow (as opposed to an ethereal Glow, because I'm obviously that all the time). I come back looking knackered; the bags under my eyes morph in to an entire matching luggage set and take on a slight purple hue.
See the problem is, whenever I have a little holiday and get to sleep earlier, my brain all of a sudden decides that it must try to reduce the sleep debt I've built up after years of insomnia coupled with 20months of child rearing. Which basically means I'm tired the whole damn time I'm away and take every opportunity to go back to bed and add to the puddle of drool on my pillow or fall asleep in the car giving myself a lovely double whammy of a crick neck and a side double chin (double goiter?).
That translates, roughly, in to me looking like the least involved parent in front of people who I'm still trying to slightly impress.
But rather than continuing to bang on about my holiday that went from soul destroying to rather pleasant (if somewhat anxiety provoking), I want to hear what it would have been like for you:
Finish this sentence: "A week on holidays at the beach with my inlaws would be..."
