By ARIELA BARD
I have this idealistic notion of what the weekend should be like. In my mind our family’s weekend activities would consist of something like this:
I rise at a respectable hour (that’s anytime after 7am) to a breakfast of paper-thin crepes prepared by my husband, an endless pot of tea accompanied by the weekend papers. I not only read an article in the Good Weekend from beginning to end but I also finish the crossword.
We stroll down to Wiley’s Baths where the children frolic in the water and don’t complain that it’s too cold or their feet are too hot or their eyes hurt or they want to go home.
Next a trip to Surry Hills market where I find some charming wooden toys for the children, a vintage dress, and a claw foot bath tub that will magically fit inside my closet-of-a-bathroom.
“I’m thrilled you’re spending money on these vintage items, darling,” my husband says to me. The children hold hands and gaze up at me adoringly.
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by The Aerogard Great Gran and Grampout. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
Reality:
The kids wake at 5am screaming for cartoons and cocoa pops for breakfast. I try to plan a trip to the beach because there is no chance of reading the paper in peace and quiet. As I search for sun cream my husband announces that he would like some time to work on his novel and heads out to the garage. I turn around to see my son roll himself in a sheet of bubble wrap entirely naked while my daughter gyrates to One Direction in front of the mirror and wonder if it’s too early for wine.