Hurt...

So it's back down to earth with a bump for me and mine.  Landing back at Birmingham airport yesterday afternoon, there was an audible sigh from my lot as we all quietly realised that there would be no Sangria o'clock on Sunday morning.

Mind you, after the amount of partying we've all done, I think I could do with another week's holiday to dry out. Talking of drying out, the night/morning at Amnesia really took its toll on all of us on Friday.  The husband and I had made the sensible approach not to drink at the club (the fact that a small bottle of water cost 14 euros was enough reason, but we also didn't want hangovers having had literally no sleep).  However, the offspring, having not been blessed with a couple of things called 'middle age' and 'wisdom', really went for it and we left them in the club for the last half hour or so.

So while we were hunkered down in our bed, grabbing a couple of precious hours, they were falling out of a taxi, stumbling into the hotel reception past a group of very sober people waiting to get their coach home.  Daughter number two, who makes many decisions based on her stomach, decided that as the hotel restaurant was open, it would be a good idea to go and eat breakfast before falling into bed.  What she didn't anticipate was falling asleep at the table, and when the waitress gently shook her shoulder to wake her, she looked up at her, with a half eaten croissant stuck to her left cheek.

None of them surfaced till lunchtime.  Daughter number one was the first one down, who seemed ok, but I felt she was putting on a brave face.  Next down was son number two, who came down for food and painkillers, and then went back to bed.  Son number one and daughter number two were the worst, and the pool was very quiet for the most of Friday.

The husband made a good effort and came down for about two hours and then trundled back upstairs 'for half an hour's kip.  This turned into four hours actually, but no one was counting.  And me?  Well I just dozed on and off all day, and by 2.00 was back on the Sangria.

But we're home now, and the husband and I are once again on our own and a pile of washing and ironing is blocking the door of the laundry.  While we were away, son number one asked me whether I minded doing all their washing and ironing, and here's what I told him...

'I don't have you with me for very long, so while you are, I will look after you all and care for you all as much as I can. I don't mind doing this for you, because you're young for such a short time.  So enjoy it for now, because when you grow up and go, it's all down to you'.

I'll be honest with you.  When I booked this holiday back in March, I didn't know how it would pan out.  The four kids have all gone in different directions over the last few years, and times together have been sweet but short.  But they were great, and watching them all rediscover their love and friendship with each other has been wonderful.  Even better, they wanted to be with us, rather than sneaking out together after putting me and the husband to bed.

They have all been fantastic company, and I'm very proud of all of them.

Even daughter number two who has a propensity to headbutt baked goods...