Back to School, Morning Checklist for Parents

So it’s back to school time tomorrow after 2 weeks of Easter Holidays.

It’s been so nice not having to rush around and rage like a banshee in order to get everyone out of the door on time, but the kids are ready to go back, they can’t wait to see their friends, and I’ve got a ‘house’ (Or as I call it at the moment, a sh*t pit) in dire need of a date with some antibacterial wipes and the hoover…

In order to help you all achieve ‘Back to school’ perfection tomorrow morning, I have devised a handy checklist to ensure your routines have gone exactly as they should.

If you manage to tick all 5 boxes by the time you leave the house tomorrow morning, you will have earnt yourself ‘epic parent status’ and at least one Easter egg from your kids stash as a reward payment.

Good luck fellow Comrades.

Once more unto the breach…

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The birds and the…birds?

Walking home from school, the sun is shining, the kids are happy (I know, both things are majorly surprising aren’t they?!) and the birds are singing.

Then my 6 year old stops by some tall bushes and says,

“Mummy? What’s that squeaking noise?”

To which I reply by saying,

“I think it’s a bird…”

“Oh, right!” He says. “Mummy, I think it’s a bird getting laid…”

“A what?!” I ask, stunned.

“A bird getting laid!! Oh, wait, I mean a bird laying. Laying an egg, that’s what I meant” he replies.

Phew. Thank goodness for that. 

No bird titillation today thank you…

 

A tit in our garden… (sniggers)

 




Stormy weather…

Bit windy out today… (Understatement)

The sort of day you don’t really want to be outside any longer than you have to be.

I was already dreading the school run because of the fact it’s Monday (piss off Monday – I think we should have 3 day weekends which incorporate Monday’s because they’re so pants, I’m going to write to the queen to suggest it in a minute…) and because of Imogen. (No, that’s not anyone’s child at school, I wouldn’t be that rude, even on a Monday – that’s the name of the latest storm to grace us with its presence).


We set off for school and the middle one stops on the driveway to tinker with his Match Attax (if you’ve been lucky enough to not know about these bloody things yet then high five to you. You’re one of the luckiest people I know). They’re footie cards which cost ¬£1 for 10 and you have to collect all the players in the FA Premier League to fill a folder and so you can play a game with them. Modern day football stickers. They’re a pain in the posterior and have caused more arguments in our house than Kim-Jong-Un has caused in the world because of his questionable haircut and Nuclear weapons fetish…


Anyway, I digress, middle child sorts out his poxy match Attax and catches up with me and his brother who are at the end of the close. We dodge the fallen fences down the alleyways and get to school safely. Upon reaching the school gate I wave my older one off, checking he has all his stuff as he goes. I then glance at the middle one who seems empty handed apart from his rucksack on his back.

“Zak, where’s your lunchbox I handed you this morning…?” I ask.

“Erm…uh oh” comes the reply.

“Uh, oh…great. Well, that can only mean one thing – where’ve you left it?!” I ask full of dread.

“On the driveway…” he informs me.

Great!!! Chuffing great!!! So now I’ve, yet again, got to walk all the way home, retrieve the lunchbox off the driveway and walk all the way back again whilst battling against Imogen (she’s a right pain in the arse this one…)

It’s one of those moments where you want to go,

“Argh!!!!!!! For fecks sake!!! How difficult is it to keep something that belongs to you in your chuffing hand?!?! You little bugger!! Now I’ve got to walk home and come back again!! Argh!!!”

but instead, to try and not make a scene, I went with,

“Oh dear, well this is a bit of a nuisance for mummy isn’t it. Never mind, it’s my fault for not carrying everything myself”

(Yeah, it’s my fault for not tattooing a checklist of all the things we need for the week onto my forehead for ease of referral).

I launch the middle one through the classroom door and curse under my breath most of the way of the return journey to and from school.

Luckily the little one didn’t mind being out in it too much and behaved impeachable for once (hurrah!) but he did end up with snot blown all over his face and a nose so red that Rudolph would be proud of it.

Here’s a picture of us a bit windswept (and mummy pissed off) when we eventually got home after a school run that lasted a total 1 hour and 5 minutes.

(A friend from school said a Baileys coffee at 10am wasn’t out of the question after that ordeal. I don’t need to be told twice, a truly great idea, I’m off to put the kettle on…)




Holy crap…literally¬†

I had no sleep last night thank to the demon toddler. The little sleep I did get was whilst lying on a beanbag next to his cot in a less than desirable position because he wanted me to hold his foot, yes, that’s right, his foot, for the duration of the night.

Due to this, I woke up in a less than cheerful mood this morning.

Even coffee hasn’t helped, and now I’m even more grumpy because he’s making me resort to eating a calorie filled Danish pastry because a sodding banana just isn’t going to cut it this morning.

By some miracle, we still managed to get out of the house fairly swiftly this morning despite me wheeling the laden down pushchair (today we had 2 school bags, 2 lunch boxes, a change of clothes in a bag for an after school tea visit for my eldest, a bag containing forest school outdoor wear for the middle one, football kit for the middle one, a cardboard shoe box for the middle one and an array of cardboard boxes for the middle one. As well as 3 children) out of the garage only to find it had a flat tyre. I pumped it up and noticed the air hissing out. It’s not a puncture, it’s a hole in the actual tyre. Arses. That’ll be a gaffa tape fix until tomorrow whilst i wait for some new ones to arrive in the post. Damn you inflated pushchair tyres, damn you!!!!!!!

We set off on our way to school and our route takes us down lots of alleyways. They’re all pretty grim with dog poo, Tenants Extra cans and decomposing leaves strewn down most of them, but it shaves 20 minutes off our walk to school so we can’t complain too much.

Me and the boys decided to turn down one of the side alleys between some houses this morning on the ‘morrisons alleyway’ (it’s a picturesque alleyway which takes you over train lines and past the local morrisons. It’s the height of excitement most mornings).

As we turned off the main alleyway onto the side one, i am greeted by the sight of a lady runner, crouched down with her pants and trousers down doing a crap down the alleyway. I kid you not.

I stared in disbelief at the woman who was squatting in the alleyway clad in her designer running gear, she looked stunned that she had been caught (why I’ll never know because it was school run time and a lot of parents use these alleyways as well as commuters walking to town) and we had clearly spooked her…but sadly not spooked enough to give her stage fright and prevent the poo from making an appearance.

With that, she pulled her trousers up quicker than you could say ‘poo!’, barged past me and the kids knocking us out the way and ran off leaving a steaming pile of turd down the alleyway.

I kid you not, it took everything in my power not to throw up right then and there. Even the kids who like to eat their own bogies were disgusted and retching. That’s how bad it was.

We swiftly made our way out of the alleyway and were flabbergasted at what we had just been subjected to on the school run. I mean, for goodness sake, if you have a funny tummy don’t go out for a run, or try and hold it in and get to morrisons where there are toilet facilities. Seriously. Gross. I always knew running was bad for you… 😉 And besides, doesn’t she realise how cold it was this morning?! She’s lucky she didn’t get frostbite…

Please, whoever you are, don’t ever do that again. It’s bad enough when the kids on the school run stand in the numerous dog turds that are strewn all over the bloody shop (I’ve seen 2 dogs in the last week – whose owners children go to our school – poo on the path we have to walk on and the owners have done nothing about it and left it there…seriously not cool).
This experience this morning has made me want to vom and move away to the middle of nowhere in Scotland where I don’t have to deal with poop alleys (pardon the punn)…and this whole episode has unfortunately put me off my Danish that I was in such dire need of.

And that’s made me really angry…. 💩😷




Ice, ice, baby…

Holy chuff it was a cold one this morning. Winter has most definitely arrived and with it, the first proper ice and frost of the year.

Cue deliriously happy children.

Cue the walk to school taking 35 minutes instead of 20.

Cue mummy flitting between, “Ah, isn’t it beautiful! Look boys, a leaf frozen in a puddle!” and, “BOYS!!! WILL YOU STOP TRYING TO ICE SKATE ON THE KERB NEXT TO THE MAIN ROAD!!! AND DON’T DO A PIROUETTE ON AN ICE PATCH WHIST IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD WHEN WE ARE CROSSING IT!! Natural selection at its finest there…

The car has the ice scraped off its windows by the boys so they can have ice fingers like Jack Frost (that’ll please Daddy). Cute…until they shove those icy fingers down the back of your neck when you’re trying to put the bins out in a rush because you’re already running late.

Each puddle has to be stamped in to test if it’s become ice or not. There are a lot of potholes on the way to school. That means a lot of puddles. A lot of stamping, and a lot of shouting from me, pleading, “not before school in your uniform!!” My pleading is futile, they stamp away and soak themselves. Idiots.

We have one slip and arse plant on the pavement due to running, after being told not to, but that only results in more giggles of hysteria and spurs them on to attempt it again. I give up.

We come to a giant frozen puddle near school at the end of an alleyway, which all the kids are gathered around. A couple of the kids slip over and are met with disappointed glares and the old adage of, “I told you so!” from their parents rather than sympathy. I feel their pain.

And with that, one of my boys picks up a large shard of ice from said puddle (which is basically on the ground of a car park/garage lockup/alleyway path…and probably covered in dog poo and pee) and without further ado he begins to eat it. A friend points this out to me and I spin round and tell him not to do it. 2 seconds later, it’s back in his mouth. Give him some broccoli and he will have a meltdown like Kate Winslet at an awards ceremony thank you speech, but give him some potentially dog poo covered ice and he’ll chomp on that no problem.

Kids.

We get to school in one piece, just about, but I’m already mentally exhausted and I secretly breathe a sigh of relief as I hand my kids over to their teachers for the day. I’m quite thankful that I’m not a teacher today who is probably having to put up with a class of 30, super excited kids who can’t wait to eat more ice off the floor at playtime. Let’s hope it’s all melted by pickup time….

Life Love and Dirty Dishes