The Holiday at Home

This week, my husband has some annual leave, but due to lack of money, and complications with our house sale, they didn't, so I planned a Staycation. I daresay you've heard of the term, and you may have even rolled your eyes. As one or two people said to me, 'I don't get it - isn't that just not going anywhere?' So I shall explain.
When you have a job outside the home, a week at home sounds quite the thing. You can watch daytime tv, catch up on all those DIY projects, stay in bed as late as you like, switch your brain off from all those customers and deadlines and chores, and maybe spend some quality time with your partner and kids. But what if, like me, your job is in the home? My main job is looking after (ie, running around after) my children, cleaning, cooking, answering the phone, and a depressing amount of life-admin: sitting for hours on the phone arguing with the phone company about the recurring errors on bills, writing letters to the electric company for similar reasons, picking up parcels that arrived while I was at the shop, making sure the bills are paid, etc etc etc. For me, a week at home is a week of the same old stress and hassle. Only, if my husband is also home, I have an extra person to feed and run around after, and even less time to concentrate on frivolities like reading, writing and music.
So my aim, in planning a staycation, was to enable me to get a holiday-mindset. I was to ignore the phone, take a week off all my usual social and volunteering groups, eat out as much as possible, and spend every moment of every day doing things with my family, just for fun.
Well, that hasn't entirely happened. First of all our car stopped working. Combined with the persistent rain, this has kept us far closer to home that I intended, although it's better now and we still have a few days to go. Secondly, my husband was prepared to fight to the death to retain his right to watch football, saying that even if we were on safari in Africa he'd still find a tv showing the match. And finally, Nana and Granddad have claimed the one and only day with no forecast rain to take the children out and away from us. OK, so Mr M and I still get a day alone together, but we've forgotten what adults are meant to do when children aren't with them. Do they stroll? Do they lounge? I don't remember.
Still, all is not doom and gloom. Between the car appointments and the solicitor's phone-calls, we have attended a church fete, watched The Smurfs in 3D at the cinema, taken the scooters to the park, ridden the miniature railway, taken a real train to the next town to spend some pocket money on comics and visit an art gallery, and visited the local soft-play area. I think we're doing ok.