Saturday mornings are either spent sitting around for two hours at a sports centre watching one child take her gymnastics class whilst trying to keep the other one entertained/fed/quiet, before they swap over and the whole process starts again; or if its Mr B's turn, I get a morning to myself. I would like to say that these few hours to myself are spent relaxing, maybe catching a bit of Saturday Kitchen, a leisurely breakfast.. No. More often than not by the time I've cleared up the trail of destruction left behind by rushing to get them ready, tidied the house a little because you just feel you have to put in a bit of an effort, and done a workout, they're marching back in through the door again. Wanting lunch.
Sundays are a lot more laid back thank goodness. You have to have one day a week with some semblance of a lie in. Mr B goes out on a bike ride, they play, I bake and cook Sunday lunch. Pottering in my kitchen.