Bloke took me away for the weekend. He booked an evening at River Cottage, along with a night at a B&B in a pretty little seaside village. It was the first time I'd left little Ff (9mo) overnight - in fact, as I am a breastfeeding WAHM, it was the first time I had left her for any significant period of time - and I was a little nervous. (Right up until my first pint...then I was like, 'Baby, what baby?'. But anyway, I digress...)
PIL got back from 3 weeks in Goa on Friday. Bloke convinced them to come straight here from the airport, so that I would have time to go through all of my PFB instructions, and let MIL put Ff to bed with me there, so I was happy that she wouldn't cry like a small banshee at being put down by someone other than me.
We got back yesterday afternoon, and not only was the baby fed, rested and happy, the house was immaculate, and the three loads of washing I had hid from the PIL in the corner of our bedroom, was washed, dried, ironed and neatly folded on the dining room table.
And the dogs had been walked so far that they barely raised an eyelid when we came through the front door.
These people are saints, and I give three cheers for them.