The Grandpa Dress-Up and the Usain Bolt Time Machine

It was finally Friday. My plans were solid, foolproof, and beautiful: do absolutely nothing, rest, catch up on missed sleep, and simply become a world-class couch potato.

But in reality? The weekend had a completely different itinerary.

The Friday afternoon slump hit me hard—tired, fluish, and lazy. I was desperate to crawl under the covers and disappear into a blissful sleep. Instead, what actually happened was a cooking marathon to practice my newfound culinary skills, combined with explaining to my son a million times: “We cannot do your homework for next week! It is the weekend!” Toss in a few rounds of fighting our dogs because they wouldn’t stop barking at the new neighbors, and I finally crawled into bed at 11:00 PM. My son, of course, refused to sleep early because “it’s the weekend, I don’t have to be in bed at eight!” There was no relaxing movie night—just mindless cartoons scrolling across the screen while freezing temperatures, heavy blankets, and hot drinks became our only defense against the blistering cold outside.

5 AM Candlesticks and Grandpa Suits

Saturday morning! Time to sleep in… Well, no.

My son woke up at 5:00 AM, sat directly in front of the TV screen, and woke us up to “trade.” Yes, we are learning how to trade synthetic indices. A gazillion YouTube videos, trading influencers, and ChatGPT questions later, we actually have a strategy. We know what to do and how to do it; the difficult part is just waiting for the right moment to execute the steps. Saturday morning at 5:00 AM, however, is not it.

Still hiding from the cold, drinking warm coffee, and just “existing,” my couch potato dreams were going well until the executive decision was made: we had to go shopping. My son had to dress up as a grandpa on Monday for his school’s 100th birthday celebration. At first, I thought this sounded fun. By Saturday afternoon, I realized it was just work.

On top of the grandpa suit, his school is having a pajama and movie day this coming Friday. Taking a blanket and a pillow to school, paying a few bucks, and getting popcorn, juice, and a snack sounds brilliant—until you realize that all of his long pajama pants have jumped up to his ankles in the last nine months. They look like pants that are terrified of feet. The boy is growing way too fast. We braved the mall for the pajama hunt, but in all honesty, the trip was such a blur I don’t even remember what we bought, and pajamas definitely weren’t part of the final haul.

By Saturday evening, I dragged myself to bed once again. We did manage an early BBQ and an aperitiv, as some might call it, followed by a family movie night. The choice? Mortal Kombat. People fighting, slicing off heads, knives, blades, blood, and guts. I was absolutely not in the mood for it, but we watched it anyway because nobody thought my movie options (Project Hail Mary or The Fall Guy) were great. Needless to say, I lost the draw.

The Great Sunday Chicken Crisis

Somewhere in the early morning hours of Sunday, I was jolted awake by the lovely combination of singing cartoons, loud “KABOOM!” noises from my son practicing his new Mortal Kombat moves, and a dog barking in the background. I was just ready to drift back to sleep when my husband walked in and saved the moment with a cup of coffee.

Picture this: the perfect Sunday lunch. Roast chicken, crispy potatoes, rice, and veggies. I took the chicken out to defrost, and the dinner plans were officially underway.

Then, a massive power cut.

There was a fault on the main line with an estimated six-to-eight-hour repair time. With no way to cook the chicken in time for dinner, our home-cooked plans were ruined, and takeout became the savior. The chicken was shoved into the fridge to wait for electricity.

The power finally flickered back to life around 2:30 PM. Lights flared on, TVs switched themselves on, and a marathon began just to run around the house and turn everything off again. Later that night, the dogs demanded to go out, spent a few minutes sniffing the cold air, and we could finally go back to sleep. Then, at 5:00 AM on Monday morning, my dog woke me up again to go outside, and that was the end of my sleep cycle.

Cinderella Tuesday and the Impending Drought

I got up early on Monday, started the housework, tackled the laundry, and transformed my son into a miniature grandpa for the school’s centenary. After dropping him off, the rest of the day vanished into a mist of errands, chores, and work. By Monday evening, the house looked like a disaster zone again, though I did finally cook that great chicken meal.

By Tuesday afternoon, my brain had traveled through a wormhole straight into Wednesday. I actively reminded my husband to take out the trash for the next morning. He just laughed and said, “Janita, it’s only Tuesday.” It hit me then—I am running way ahead of my own schedule!

Regardless, I woke up on Tuesday morning and decided it was officially Cinderella Day. I scrubbed the house and attacked a laundry mountain that felt completely untouched from the day before. As I type this, I am finally happy. The house is clean, the place is tidy, and the laundry is done.

Which is fantastic timing, because we just received a notification that our water will be cut off tomorrow. The notice babbled on about new water pipes being installed, but my brain just filtered through the noise and read two words: “NO WATER.” I was too tired to read the rest.

The real tragedy? I was supposed to wash my hair tomorrow. This water crisis is completely messing with my schedule. Ugh!

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

On the bright side, I am finally back on track with the days and dates, and I know it will officially be Wednesday in a few hours. Even better, a long weekend is coming up in South Africa! There is no school on Monday and Tuesday, which means no going out into the freezing cold and no waking up early… hopefully.

I honestly cannot wait for the actual winter school holidays to start in two weeks. When school breaks, it feels like a small holiday for me, too. No endless homework battles, no freezing school runs, no begging a seven-year-old to get dressed and brush his teeth, and no fighting to get him to sleep early. Just pure, blissful silence.

Fingers crossed we make it through the waterless Wednesday first!