Well, it sounded as though my Dad survived his BUPA explorations - he was sleeping the sleep of the just when I phoned last night, but hopefully I'll speak to him on the phone later on tonight.
Sometimes being a Pseudo-Supermum is over-rated. You know those statistics calculated by economists, working out what a mum's domestic contribution would actually be worth in financial terms? Well, let them do their statistics based on my weekend! How do you calculate the time taken up by:
The weekly supermarket run, plus trips to optician, rehearsal, party
Preparing meals etc, 5 loads of washing, hanging up, folding and sorting it when dry, and some of the ironing (but this week I left some for Super Spouse, since I did the whole of last week's lot myself!)
Stripping beds, emptying bins, clearing "junk" off the stairs, putting out clean towels, mending a zip, cleaning the hamster cage (no-one else ever thinks that these chores need doing!)
Not to mention supervising tidy-up sessions for clothes and toys! Alas, I didn't manage to factor in time to supervise instrumental practices, so they didn't get practised. That's another sore point. Is it worth the effort?
Poor, worn out Pseudo-Supermum chose to nap on the settee after lunch today rather than go swimming. I stand, as accused, a couch potato. A feeble, rotten thing of neither use nor ornament, and negligent in my duty to my boys. Son no.1 was my accuser. Not in quite so many words, but along those lines, certainly.
Well, ain't that tough! It gets to the point where even a worn out Supermum needs a rest if she is to continue functioning normally!