There are two sorts of alarm clocks in our house.
There's the traditional brain tremor bleep of the clock, and then there's the cheery and alert wake up call of "Mummy, daddy... mummy" that beams in from the next room.
Mia usually starts bleating before the alarm clock goes off,
and we usually leave her to babble for five to ten minutes, before succumbing to her cute 'come-and-get-me' call (anything from 5:30 am).
But this weekend we experienced something quite different. There was silence on Sunday morning. Peace. Quiet. Tranquillity. No wake up call of any kind.
You see my wife and I left the little one - quite happily and beaming I might add - in the arms of her auntie and uncle for the night. They stayed at our place while we got a room for the night at a fancy hotel.
Yes, yes. I know I've only just blogged about how to be a decent parent when you're hungover, and I can already hear some of you groan, "He's buggering off for yet another night out".
Actually, it was out for dinner, a quick night cap, a spot of Telethon on TV to see how much they'd raised, before a blissful sleep - and the next morning not a hangover in sight.
Every parent deserves to recharge their batteries - be it an afternoon nap if the opportunity arises, or a night free from the mummy-daddy alarm clock.
It need not be anything fancy either. A cabin at camping ground will suffice. Because it's not the surroundings that count; it's the glass of vino, the dinner, and, most of all, the utter bliss of not being woken up at the crack of dawn.
And as for the kids, think of leaving them at home as good for their social development. All you need is some trusty babysitters. You want them to feel safe and happy in the company of some of your nearest and dearest.
Mia loves it when auntie Susie comes smiling and squawking through the doorway and she's developed a bit of a cute crush on her uncle John.
When we left on Saturday afternoon, there was not one whimper, nor a grizzle, and forget about shedding a tear. While driving into town we felt a little let down that she hadn't put on more of a performance.
The only bummer about our weekend escape was we still woke up just before 6 on Sunday morning. But do you think we got out of bed? Not a chance. We dozed, until hunger drove us to the table for a leisurely breakfast. We ate, barely uttering a word to each other as we took our time reading the Sunday papers. What bliss.
(Footnote: we were home by 9.30am because we were missing Mia.)
Scott Kara
Photo / Janna Dixon
Rude awakenings
Photo / Janna Dixon
There are two sorts of alarm clocks in our house.
There's the traditional brain tremor bleep of the clock, and then there's the cheery and alert wake up call of "Mummy, daddy... mummy" that beams in from the next room.
Mia usually starts bleating before the alarm clock goes off,
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