Monday 8 May 2017

This is my life, my silly crazy life



Just a little insight into our day of relentless low-level stress...

Boo is in Year 6 now and has her SATs this week.  So we get up early because she wants to go to SATs breakfast club with her friends. This ever-so-slightly-early start and change in routine makes little sister Miss 9 anxious and because she's already tired after a weekend of too much screen-time and no sleep at Daddy's, she has one of those whines that lasts for about an hour: ‘But I haaaaaaaate schooooooooool thougggggggghhhhhhhh, whyyyyyyyyyyy do have to gooooooooooooooooooo????...’ etc.

Meanwhile, big sister Ms 13 is having trouble getting ready for school on time again: her hair (or something) won't go right and she's stressing about exams this week. ‘I don’t know what I’ve got, or when, and nobody will tell me.  I don’t know what to do.  I can’t go.’ 

I say, ‘Fine, just go in as soon as you're ready, I’ll call them and say you’ll be in a bit late.  I have to take your sisters to school now.   She goes in her bedroom and slams the door.  I know she is flopping onto her chair-bed and looking at her phone, rather than getting ready, but right now I have to be somewhere else.

But FFS, Boo isn't ready. She has a tummy ache. I'm thinking nervous tummy, SATs related.  I get the sulky-faced and whiney Miss 9 loaded up for school with folder and lunchbox, and just at that moment, Boo throws up HER ENTIRE BREAKFAST, luckily for me, into the kitchen sink. Then she immediately says she feels absolutely fine and wants to go and do her test.  I turn on the taps, gipping at the smell of milky Shreddies vom, and try not to see it blocking up the plughole. 

I ring school, but there’s no answer, so we go there in the car, sick bowl and wipes in hand.  I need to ask them what they want us to do- kids aren’t supposed to be in school for 48 hours after they’ve puked, just in case it’s a bug, but if a child who has been entered for SATs doesn’t then complete the test, it will bring the scores down for the entire year group, so they really won’t want her to miss it.

At school, news of our puker sends more than one slightly stressed-out (SATs related!) member of staff into a bit of a flap – nobody seems sure what we should do, and we are referred to the executive head, who makes the executive decision to send Boo home, see how she fares, and if ok bring her back at 10.30am for the test, which she will do in isolation (which she would have done anyway, since she is allowed 11 minutes extra time- WOO!- and will be completing her tests in a more relaxed environment with her support assistant, due to her autism.  See- there are perks.)  She will then need to be collected by me after the test and brought home.

At the news that Boo is allowed to go home for a little while, Miss 9 becomes even more disgruntled.  It’s not faaaaaaiiiiiir!  How come SHEEEE gets to go home and IIIIII have to go to SCHOOOOOOOOOL?’   Boo, meanwhile is looking at me with daggers and moaning, ‘Awww’ in a very loud and sulky voice, because she wanted to be at school eating toast with her buddies.  Both girls hate me.  It is, after all, all my fault, as usual.  I can do without this this morning.  Seriously.

I drive us all halfway home, when I realise that I’ve forgotten to call Ms 13’s school to tell them she’ll be late.  I pull over and ring them, it’s a quick call without the need for lots of explanation – the attendance officer knows my voice all too well and is well-versed in the trials and tribulations of getting my first-born to school on time.  Then I look at my watch and notice that there is no point going home now as it’s time for Miss 9 to be in school, so I pull a Uey? U-ie? Yooey? and  head back to the primary school, lock Boo and her sickbowl in the car, run round to the school gates with Miss 9,  back to the car, and home without further incident.  I walk in to find Ms 13 messing on her phone and eating crisps, already over half an hour late for school.

I take the phone, and eat the crisps.  It is 9 am.

There was more.  So much more.  Backwards and forwards in the car to the high school, then the primary school.  Sink unblocking. A lost flip-flop. Back to the primary school for Boo.  A headache.  Three loads of laundry.  I want chocolate and the Co-op is shut for a month.  I’m supposed to be working on a presentation for college that was actually due last Thursday.  For lunch I’m eating out-of-date pasta salad, which I bought especially for my fussy-eating turned vegetarian turned vegan 13 year old last Tuesday, and she then ate nothing but crisps all week leaving me with a load of extortionately priced, healthy and beautiful deli items going off quietly in the fridge, which I refuse to throw away.  If I’m sick, I should make her clean it up.  My cat thinks it’s teatime and is meowing at me needily, guilt tripping me through the window.

I now have approximately 90 minutes to do a day’s work before the afternoon school run.

This is my life.

1 comment:

Sally said...

😂😂😂
Sorry! I know I shouldn't laugh! I can't help it though! Xx