I think everyone has their Friday night rituals
For some famed mums its “Fuck it all Friday”
The kids eat junk food whilst mummy enjoys that well deserved glass of anything that contains enough alcohol to make the thought of the forth coming 2 days of enduring their husband and precious poppets under the same roof seem almost tolerable.
For those under 25 or without kids its a night to get dolled up, hit the town and get twatted, rolling in at god knows what hour and probably waking up to someone you have absolutely no idea at who they are or why you even invited them home.
In our house my kids celebrate fizzy drink friday. Mummies pathetic attempt to reduce their intake of fizzy crap.
I myself spend Friday refusing to hoover as Im determined to make sure the floor so rank that when my little darlings earn their pocket money they can see the fruits of their labour on each sweep across the fur matted carpet.
I do however work like stink to get the dirty washing baskets emptied, cleaned, dried and ironed so I can say that I have successfully conquered my laundry at least once this bloody year.
This is always obviously a failure as: A) I always triumphantly start the machine before checking under my sons pillow or behind my daughters bed, B) I always drop at least 2 socks on my journey to the machine, which by the time I discover them lying on the stairs they have made camp and singing the chorus of “we shall not, we shall not be moved” and C) I have usually had an outbreak of fibro sweats in the effort of getting it all done in just one day and have had to strip off head to toe to cool down and find something to wear with less layers!
As for my beloved husband friday nights means a whole different thing.
It starts with his arrival on the drive.
His radio volume is so loud I can hear it through the double glazing and the neighbours curtains are twitching at the sound of him singing out some 80s ballard.
We have the usual greetings, a hug and he dumps his work bag with a determined force so we all know it is NOT being touched again until Monday morning.
We then starts the weekly debate.
“Well I was going to buy beer, but then I thought I’d be good….Did you buy me any beer???? Oh 🙁 ……I might go and get some….And as of next week I’m definitely going to cut back to only having beer at the weekend!….You coming with me?”
By this point I am usually barking instructions at some random child about peeling potatoes quicker, balling about why isnt the washing machine on yet? You’ve been home for 2 bloody hours and I told you to get the machine on then!!” and trying to get that cow Alexa to respond to my requests at timing dinner!…. What else is the machine for other than time telling and joke telling?
I smile sweetly in response “Am rather busy darling”.
“…….Oh….. so you dont want any wine?” I have an internal struggle for all of 2 seconds. Of course I want bloody wine! The wash basket is overflowing, my house is a bomb site and I have to put up with a house full of my dearly loved family for the next 48 hours repeatedly asking “whats is there to eat????”
I jump in his car knowing this is my last moment of peace and quiet until Monday morning only to get blasted by noise as I climb in before he twigs its at an unsociable volume and off we trundle to the shops as I bark through the windows instructions like “Dont touch the oven!”, “for christ sake take off that bloody school uniform, it should be in the wash!!”, “Have you checked under your pillow for pants” and “No I havent washed your Saturday club uniform, did you even put it in the sodding wash??”
As expected Co-op is a delight.
I start stacking cake in one corner of the basket leaving plenty of room for the now 2 bottles of wine I have decided to buy as Im not sure 1 will be enough. My husband has a 5 minute dither over choosing between Budweiser, Local ales or if hes feeling really reckless hes going for 3 desperados and a 4 pack of Bud, the whole time trying to explain about his latest coding dilemma at work as I fog over and try to drown out the screaming of some other person’s child.
As always there are at least a dozen of us standing in the que trying to hide their weekend beverages behind an essential purchase like bread or milk…. Or cake in my case.
At least 3 tannoy requests are made asking for more check out staff before i add with ninja speed that third bottle of wine and we finally get to escape civilisation after remembering the reusable bag is still on the stairs, no we dont have a points card and yes we need cashback as Ive not paid the last 3 weeks of kids club, before we can retreat to our own privacy.
The second we pull on the drive the front door bursts open as the children squabble over who will get to speak first.
He’s dropped the spuds on the floor and put them back in the pan as apparently thats what mummy always does, shes been facetiming despite knowing the rules that there are no electronics when the grownups arent in, but its ok as she was only saying she wasnt allowed to talk to them and he’s put his red pants in with the white school shirts again so everyone is going to out next week in a lovely shade of pink.
As all this commotion is going on his nibbs is heading up the stairs for a ceremonial dump despite my mutterings in the coop que that one sneeze and Ill be riding home in his precious car with wet pants.
He strolls down stairs like king pin dressed just in his pants and his non work tshirt, a tshirt that wasnt put in the wash as he only wore it for 4 hours last night, but yet still has the marks of dinner on it that he threw down himself within 5 minutes of putting it on.
He fires up his PC as he has not been in front of a monitor for hours….. Well at least since leaving work.
I can hear the cogs turning, his plans of checking private emails, updating his private clients sites and then an endless weekend of gaming broken only for beer stops, wee stops, bacon sandwiches and maybe a couple of hours on me sofa with me watching something sci fi he has chosen.
But before the weekend marathon begins he needs his celebratory anthem…… a fuckin anthem that will get stuck in my head all feckin weekend!!!!!
Some random man joyfully singing Daytona?????probably in a karaoke booth….. Really???? Every feckin weekend???? Joy!
Someone pass the wine!!!….. Not not the empty one! The full one in the fridge!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWnzfA9AqrA
If my beloved husband had a blog apparently it would say he brings me home wine each night….really?? Last time I get him to proof read!
Fuckers had it on repeat for the last 2 hours!!!