Back to normality. It's almost the end of term and everyone is knackered. Consequently, the school ups the ante and ensures we're all mental and emotional wrecks for the holidays. Teachers are sadists, I don't care what anyone says. They always have been, they always will be. If it's not Sports Day (fair enough - it is allegedly the summer), it's school trips, or assemblies, or leavers plays, or prize givings or discos or school fayres or organ donation...
Talking of which, we did two of those last week. Sports Day on Friday didn't get cancelled - much to my chagrin - which entailed standing around in the wind/rain/sleet and watching plastic eggs get blown off spoons with a pre-schooler whinging for Britain. Just as we are leaving, and I'm elatedly telling everyone how within half an hour I shall be sinking my teeth into a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, whingy pre-schooler blows chunks everywhere. Great. Journey home in the car was nice. He continues to offer up the contents of his stomach as sacrifice to any sanity I might have had remaining for the rest of the night, stopping at about 11pm. Very considerate, although Husband and I barely slept anyway - waiting as you do for the inevitable tap-tapping of the 3am puke-dripping-down-floorboard scenario.
Next day is the school fayre. It was sunny (shock!), the kids were happy and the Exorcist Child not puking, so we went mad and virtually remortgaged the house to pay for endless tombolas, tattoos, second-hat tat and all the usual school fair shmutter. We even got the paddling pool out in the afternoon, such was the unencumbered joy of a bit of sun. Arthritic Son, however, decided it was his turn to whinge. And then, at 12am precisely, to start with the whole chunk-blowing routine. For 13 hours. Oh, how I love the old Methotrexate. It does so liven up anything to do with immune systems, no? We wade through Sunday and its associated bleaching/laundry fest and manage to get to bed early only to have Husband up at 2am performing the Huey & Ralph opera. Cue Monday. Both kids off school/nursery, both parents doing a pretty exceptional imitation of what might happen to you if you decided to downsize on frontal lobe activity and eat cryptosperidium at the same time.
It was supposed to be our 'chilling out' weekend. This weekend (pause to sob and wring hands in despair) we are off Camping at a 'family' festival (an oxymoron if ever I heard one). This being my life - and my life being the sort of bath/fire thing already talked of in this blog - I am staying open-minded. I may be gone some time....
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment