Sometimes I do worry about myself. Today I reached a new high, or low depending on just how excited you get over furniture, over my brand spanking new sofa, I mean CORNER sofa arriving.
The old sofa had seriously seen better days. In 4 years it has survived a newborn with horrendous reflux, a house move, a selection of kids using it as a trampoline during my childminding days, projectile vomit again, the sick bug variety, and a lot of yoghurt spillages.
So last week during our foray into the world of the ideal home exhibition we came across a sofa outlet that did us a great deal on our new, gulp, corner unit. Great for stretching out and relaxing on, is the idea.
Who am I kidding? When the hell am I going to stretch out and relax? Not with 3 boys to run around after, I do include Mr T in this. Certainly won't be any time soon with the Easter holidays upon us.
I have set some ground rules regarding my beautiful new centrepiece. They are;
1. No jumping on the sofa, threenager I am looking at you
2. No eating anything on the sofa or in the vicinity of the sofa this includes the rugged area in front of the sofa
3. No feet on the sofa
4. No rearrangement of cushions in any order other than the one set my me
5. After you have been in the garden/to the toilet/eaten anything with your fingers please wash your hands WITH SOAP, kids I am talking to both of you
6. It is an adult's responsibility that when 'tidying up' for the evening the sofa must be plumped, no excuses. It is not to go saggy.
How long before one of these rules is smashed into pieces?