It is never a good idea to brag about a good day.
Even if you have depresssion and good days are rarer than gold dust. The universe doesn’t like someone having a good day. It’s just not cricket.
But yesterday was a good day. My event in work was over and I could get on with “normal” work activities. Sure I was behind but everyone “understood”. Everyone was glad I was on the team. Everyone in work thought I was “A-ok”.
I came home and got on with Genies homework.
My general motto is school is for school and home is for play, until they get to Comprehensive and then it’s “why haven’t you done your homework?” “Why are you wasting your life, you should have read Shakespeare before 5pm!” Queen of the double standards? Nope! Not me!
But they get you in this homework. They call it “IMPACT” the “P” is for “Parents” and the “I” is for “Improved”. I can’t remember the rest but the moral pressure is enough in those two words. Your child will fail at life if you don’t get involved. They have stats and everything so I’m sure it’s true.
So when you have six children and a million other things to do you absolutely must spend half an hour focusing on the one child and encouraging them to write about a shopping trip. Otherwise you are the absolute bottom of the pile of parents. Beat your child if you will, but ignore the focus on spelling the high frequency words at your peril.
But I did it. (There’s stats, you know)
Then I had a Tesco delivery. I felt pre-historic. I had provided. All hail the conquering hero with kills a-plenty. Ok, it was mainly yoghurts and crisps. But I provided. My children could feed. They’d live another day.
My daughter has been sole dog-walker for about six months. But now she’s bored of it. Can’t say I blame her, it’s a dull task in the summer, but when you have to wade through mud with a dog whose only interest is annoying other dogs, it’s beyond boring. She’s 15, other dog walkers overlook this and think it’s perfectly acceptable to scold her for an inobedient dog. So we compromised: half a week each. She agreed and decided Monday was “not her day”. Entirely unrelated to today being Monday, I’m sure. But I walked the dog!
I had exercise.
Now I have a pastime to put on my CV: I like walking the dog. (I don’t, I hate it; but it’s a version of the truth not to end up in court).
Then, because the stores were full, I could cook. Not like: “o.m.g there’s only dog food in the house how on earth am I going to turn that into sustenance?”-type cooking. Actual “feed children Nutritional food” cooking. (I don’t like to brag, but they had vegetables and everything)
A good day.
I didn’t even mind that I couldnt watch Walking Dead because Sky Q is shit (apparently it’s actually the broadband that’s shit but it makes Sky Q not work so close enough)
I *may* have been drunk. But that’s an entirely different story.
Monday 21st November 2016 was a good day.
I went to bed happy.
I knew it wouldn’t last.
My life doesn’t work like that.
It didnt bode well when my cold bed was invaded by a 2 (nearly 3) year old hot water bottle. He demanded milky (his comforter is a bottle of milk) nearly every hour throughout the night.
I should have turned in the towel when son #2 came into my room complaining of stomach ache.
But I knew my feel good factor was over when daughter #2 starting wretching, screaming and crying “the dogs been sick on the sofa”. It’s really not the precursor of “a good day”.
Still. Two older children went to school. Two younger children were taken to school. Tuesdays are my mums day so makes no difference to her if she looks after one little boy or two.
I went to work.
Work largely uneventful.
I say uneventful. Lots of “events”. But you know, it’s work ….. not my day to share and all that …..
There’s no mobile reception in work. So I only get text messages when I get to the car.
Text message #1: “you have missed a call from Madison Gibbons” uh-oh! She’s the most sensible. She never rings. This does not bode well.
Get to school and read Facebook. Mum saying another baby is home ill. I won’t take bets on who that is then …
Vets is in school car park. Every time I go to school (twice a day, five days a week) I remember I’m supposed to ring the vets to organise the cat’s booster. Every day I forget. Every day I tell the kids to remind me. Every day they remind me at the same time we turn into the car park and see the vets, because you know, that’s totally when I meant.
So today I decide to go into the vets while I’m waiting and make an appointment. Today at 4.30pm. Because Tuesdays are when my mum is in the house and everything is easier.
Pick up girls. Tell Genie we absolutely must practise her spellings tonight because I’m fed up of them being done at the last minute and having to fight with her about them. We start fighting. I tell her no arguments, we’re doing them.
Mum not well.
She’s just about coped with poorly children but wants to go home to bed. She’s not managed to be cleaner for the day. She’s not managed to start dinner. Everything pretty much the same as when I left it this morning.
It’s a blow. But there’s a small part (ok quite a big part) that smiles because every day for nine years I felt useless that I couldn’t do anything but keep babies alive. Hooray! My superhuman mum who is still working (over) full time aged 65 or something (I don’t know, I lose track, she’s still 40 to me, which is why my own 40th birthday felt so unreal) only managed to keep them alive for the day. Hooray. I’m totally not a waste of humanity!
But cat still needs injection.
Sneak out while everyone is otherwise occupied. Mum may have been looking down on phone at Facebook. I’m not proud ….
Cats injection done.
Get home. Llyw and Genie taken dog for walk. Yay, another day off for me.
They took money.
This will not end well.
Llyw and Genie come home with sweets. It was never in doubt.
Adelaide absolutely furious no sweets were bought for her. Queen Adelaide is a formidable opponent. I decide on easy option: side with Adelaide. Tell Llyw to take dog back out and buy Adelaide sweets. He starts telling me all the reasons why he shouldn’t do it. I go to grab his face to get his attention and accidentally slap him. He shouts that I have assaulted him and I regain (actually pretty sure I am longest holder of) title of “worst mother of the year” (thank you so much, I’d like to thank…..)
Children’s food is provided.
Ok they had fish fingers.
They had a multitude of cereal and sweets while they were waiting as well so if you count it all, it’s a balanced meal. Strawberry shaped sweets totally count as vitamins right?
Mack’s girlfriend appears. Must make good impression. Offer her baked potato. Shes vegetarian and I never know what to feed her. She accepts! Yay! Mother in law of the year totally outweighs worst mother of the year.
I congratulate her on some letter her parents have had (and posted on Facebook) about being an awesome individual. She tells me Mack had one too. I ask Mack where his letter is. In his bag. (Obviously)
He goes to get it.
It says we have to go to a meeting about how to make him more awesome.
At 6-7pm. (When theee other children are at other things)
In Porthcawl. (Two junctions down the motorway)
I ask Mack: you don’t want to go then? He does.
You don’t want us to come? He does.
Cue serious panicking between Doug and I about how the two of us can be in five different places at one time.
We decide a plan.
It involves three other families.
No problem, I’ll message them.
Internet doesn’t work because broadband is shit. (Sky Q totally faultless after all)
Kids in bed. Plan for being in five different places at once nearly in place. Humourous account of crazy life written.
Genie has avoided her spellings.
But it’s all about the priorities, right.
I mean surely not EVERYONE needs to read or write. Surely as long as four of six children can do it, it’s fine.
I mean it’s not as if there’s statistics about how important parental involvement is in homework.