Skip to main content

I repent

I am aware that only recently I waxed lyrical about the fun and games to be had on the school run.

I have now changed my mind.

Things that drove me crazy this morning:
  • Chronic exhaustion due to the Small(er) One waking up all night with a series of increasingly ridiculous demands
  • The Small(er) One spilling her breakfast all over her uniform and screaming when I tried to change her, then screaming when she decided that soggy cornflakes on her lap was too much to bear and that she wanted to be changed after all
  • The Small(er) One sitting in the hallway for ten minutes, refusing to go to school because she didn't like the pattern on her socks
  • Firstborn being attacked by the Small(er) One bacause she was wearing 'her' scarf
  • Getting outside the flat, finally, only to discover that it was pouring with rain. My suede coat and shoes are unlikely to look the same ever again
  • The Small(er) One shouting "I hate you mummy, you smell of wee" at the top of her voice and blowing raspberries at me... all the way to school
  • Firstborn freaking out because we were late (she is extraodinarily rule-sensitive and twists herself into knots at the very thought of having to go explain herself to the formidable school secretary)
  • Once at school, having arrived just in time, the Small(er) One refusing to enter her classroom, preferring to stand in the rain for a full five minutes looking increasingly bedragged and folorn before being carried in, all the time bellowing: "I don't wanna go to school! Wanna stay in the rain! Argghhh!" etc
  • Got splashed by a sadist driving at full speed through puddles on the way to the tube. The final death knell for the suede coat. RIP.
Maybe I should just go to bed and stay there for the rest of my life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...