|We get to look at this! How exciting!|
This weekend Tracey and I are going away with my colleagues for our staff Xmas party for a WHOLE NIGHT.
We're booked into Twin Waters Resort on the Sunshine Coast, and the package includes dinner and breakfast and even a bottle of sparkling and some choccies. I can't wait. Apparently the resort is right next to the beach but if I can't see waves from the seafood buffet I don't think I'll bother with it.
We have our baby sitters organised (we're farming them out - we can't really expect one person to look after all of our kids because that would be especially cruel). The only bone of contention has been what to do with Miss0. A number of options have been 'discussed' including my mum, Tracey's mum, Tracey's sister and even a friend of Tracey's who has volunteered to ohh and ahh at our Miss0 for a night.
"I don't mind who we leave her with," I told Tracey honestly when the topic was originally broached. So naturally we're taking Miss0 with us.
I don't know how this came about either.
Tracey assures me I was there for this decision but maybe the telly was on because I know I was surprised as hell when this arrangement was tossed into a conversation earlier in the week.
Naturally, I've used all the usual arguments against this.
"She's coming with us."
"That's the end of the discussion."
Ah well, I tried.
Still, like a good husband, I've decided not to argue this point any further, although mainly because it would get me nowhere.
Besides, I've worked out the only thing taking Miss0 with stop me doing is going out after the dinner to dance, and no-one in their right mind wants to see me dance. I have all the eighties moves but none of the rhythm which makes them look good.
Even better than a night away without most of our kids is on either side of the WHOLE NIGHT are two perfectly good shopping days.
I know I'm going against type by admitting I like shopping, but I'm looking at the bigger picture here. I see these two shopping days as my ticket to a very merry Christmas.
If everything goes to plan we will have our Christmas shopping in the bag by Sunday night, and that means we are done for the year with the whispered arguing in the bedroom (sorry 'discussions') about what to buy each kid. With the Christmas shopping finished we can revert to using the bedroom for what it's intended to be used for - hiding piles of laundry from visitors.
Then, for the next five weeks, while everyone else in G-town is battling the crowds at the shopping centres, we'll be sitting at home drinking beer. Well, at least one of us will be.
Oh, yes, after The Big Event I'm foreseeing a very merry lead up to Christmas. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to skip into the bedroom and dig through the washing pile so I can pack my travel bag.