The car is full. It’s 2.5 hours from ours to Center Parcs, Whinfell.  3 of the 4 kids are asleep in the car and I am squished in between two of them frantically typing on a laptop before I am cut off for the weekend or someone pukes.  Emily gets travel sick just looking at cars and Ruby, she waits until you pack the rest of the car around her before she announces she needs a poo.  NOW.
Thankfully I’m not sat inbetween either of those two.

We’ve got 6 cases, 3 scooters, an oversized snack bag and a mermaid shaped birthday cake. All crammed in with the 6 of us. I think we are ready to go.
Nope. Quickly back in, Emily, the one with the least amount of hair, refused to get in the car until she had a hair tie in. It’s tied around 3 tiny strands of hair. Ready. Lets go!

An hour into the journey Harry decides that he no longer wants to be in his car seat and acts as if it’s suddenly on fire and screams to be let out, at the EXACT same time Lucy decides she needs fed.  Obviously. So here I am hanging over a car seat, my seat belt strangling me, with one boob in Lucys mouth and my arm stretched over to let Harry use my entire data quota watching ‘Let it go’ on repeat on youtube.

Could be worse.

You see this weekend, Ruby, she turns 6.  We thought a weekend at Centre Parcs would be fun, instead of the fuss of a birthday party. Cramming us all in the car for almost 3 hours is the best fun, ya know?  More fun than having 10 screaming girls running through out the house with cake, face paints and beads.  So. Many. Beads.

A few days ago I found her sobbing in a corner of the hallway.  With her eyes full of tears she told me she didn’t want to be 6.  Truth is, I’m not really ready for her to be 6 either.  In all honestly I wasn’t really ready for five, and thats been and gone before I even had a chance to get used to it.
How is my sweet pudgy little baby going to be six?  I’ve tried writing her yearly birthday letter a few times and failed each time, crying over how my sweet little thing is almost in double figures and how she won’t want to hug me in public soon.  I go from regular to pretty dramatic in a matter of seconds.

We’ve arrived.  It’s raining and forecast for the whole weekend.  I forgot my waterproof jacket due to the poop palaver & I have only unpacked one of my wellies so far.

I’m not ready for six.

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