Hello from half-term, where the days are long, the evenings are short and the snack cupboard is under siege.
Monday was the first proper taste of the clocks having gone back.
We came in from the park at quarter to five and it was pitch black. The big one asked if it was bedtime. Indie asked if it was night-time forever now. I asked myself if it was too early for a hot chocolate. It was not.
Whipped cream, mini marshmallows, the lot. Three hot chocolates and one very sticky table. Half-term tradition officially established.
Tuesday it rained. Not drizzle. Proper sideways Essex rain that makes you question every life choice involving leaving the house.
So we didn't. Pyjamas on, curtains shut, duvets dragged into the living room, and a film marathon with a bowl of popcorn that ended up mostly in the sofa.
Twenty minutes in, Indie fell asleep on my arm. I didn't move for an hour. My arm went dead. Worth it.
Wednesday Nanny and Grandad came to the rescue.
They took both kids for the day, which in half-term is the equivalent of winning the lottery. I sat at the kitchen table with a hot coffee, my laptop and Storme Diaries notes everywhere, and got more done in five hours than I had in the previous five days.
The kids came back with new colouring books, a bag of sweets they'd been explicitly told were 'for later' and the very clear impression that Nanny's house has no rules. Correct. That's the whole point of Nanny's house.
Thursday the rain finally cleared, so we went for a leaf walk.
Wellies on, wrapped up, out into the woods. There's something about kicking through a big pile of crunchy leaves that resets everybody. Even me.
Somebody fell in a puddle. Somebody else jumped in the same puddle on purpose, to keep them company. We came home looking like we'd been dragged through a hedge, and nobody cared.
Friday was a bit of a wobble day, if I'm honest.
The dark afternoons had started to get to me, and I felt a bit flat and short-tempered by teatime. So I did what I'm trying to do more of: said it out loud to John, went for a quick walk round the block on my own while he did bath time, and came back feeling a bit more like a person.
Small things. They do add up.
Saturday was Halloween.
The sparkly bat-cat made a comeback, one ear now held on with a safety pin. The big one went as a ghost, which involved a sheet, two holes and a lot of walking into things.
We did a short trick-or-treat loop round the close, only the houses with pumpkins outside, because that's the rule. Everyone was lovely. One neighbour had a smoke machine. Indie is now convinced that house is haunted and has asked to move.
Then came the negotiations.
Back at home, the sweets were tipped onto the carpet and sorted with the precision of a stock exchange. Swaps were made. Deals were struck. John tried to take a 'parent tax' and was told, very firmly, that there is no such thing. There absolutely is. I took two.
Sunday was the reset.
Uniforms washed, book bags found, a frantic search for a single school shoe that turned up in the toy box. I made a big batch of pasta for the week ahead and laid everything out by the front door like an army preparing for battle.
So that was half-term.
Hot chocolate at five o'clock in the dark. A rainy pyjama day. A day off courtesy of Nanny and Grandad. One muddy leaf walk. A little wobble, said out loud. A sparkly bat-cat, a bumping ghost and a sweet negotiation that would make a lawyer blush.
Here's to the cosy, chaotic, slightly sticky bits of half-term, and to being gentle with ourselves as the dark evenings settle in. 🍂🧡