Just Call Me Superhero School Run Mum…

It’s official. I frickin’ HATE the school run.

What’s not to love about always, ALWAYS being late. Sprinting down the road with coats, bags and offspring trailing behind you, as other parents are already returning to their cars?!!

It’s the equivalent of being lapped I tell you.

It’s got so bad that I actually now frequently refer to the school run as ‘Mummy’s Walk of Shame’. And I’m pretty sure I’ve been mentally blacklisted by the head. Poor Mini-me…

Now what is so difficult you may ask about getting pint-sized people up, cleaned, dressed, fed and out? And I totally get you. Other parents seem to manage perfectly well. Many of my friends (some with three or more children) seem to manage perfectly well – so why the hell can’t I get my arse in gear and do the same?!

It’s a question I’m continually asking myself believe me. Often I congratulate myself on having a few minutes to spare, but then before I know it the clock is mocking me again, Mini-me is shouting up the stairs about my continual lateness and we screech the car out of the drive for today’s thrilling and slightly sweaty obstacle race.

The other day, as Mini-me quizzically surveyed her stressed mother from the back seat, she announced: “Mummy, if I was a superhero I could make sure we got to school on time every day. I could fly us there, and you could hang off my leg.

“Or, maybe you could be the superhero and that would mean we got there on time.”

Wishful thinking Mini-me, but what the hell…

Here, in the spirit of what I should be aspiring to (and Mini-me’s current obsession with dressing up) I give you the manifesto of Superhero School Run Mum. Curse her!

 

  1. Superhero School Run Mum is not fazed by inclement weather. She leaps puddles in the style of Greg Rutherford, and never forgets to pack spare socks for soggy offspring.

 

  1. Superhero School Run Mum never looks anything but well put together. Her ponytail is always sleek and she has never once sported ‘visible t-shirt sweat stripes under bra’.

 

  1. While for others the clock may sneer: ‘You should have left three minutes ago and you’re still not dressed’, Superhero School Run Mum can actually turn back time, and even enjoys a hot beverage pre 9am.

 

  1. You will never find Superhero School Run Mum lying on the bedroom floor swearing like a sailor while trying to force her legs into skinny jeans straight from the dryer in the style of a slightly ageing overweight sausage dog. No, she breaks in her denim the night before and has never heard of ‘styling out a muffin top.’

 

  1. When Superhero School Run Mum’s other half asks where his shirt, wallet or sanity is, she would never dream of replying: ‘How the f*** should I know. Do I look like your mother?!’

 

  1. Shouting is something you will never hear from Superhero School Run Mum. Her house is like something out of The Waltons, even at 7am. And as for kicking the car door, or muttering repeatedly under her breath: ‘I hate the sodding school run’, why it’s unthinkable.

 

  1. Superhero School Run Mum’s offspring eat a proper breakfast that includes all the major food groups. Gwyneth’s latest cook book takes pride of place in her kitchen, Nutella is banned and no one mentions the iPad before school, let alone uses it for bribery purposes…

 

  1. Superhero School Run Mum’s friends wouldn’t dream of chuckling about her lateness. Indeed she is known for arriving earlier than everyone else at the school playground and can always be relied upon for her soothing company.

 

  1. Not once has Superhero School Run Mum got all the way home and then realised she is still carrying her child’s book bag – and then had to make a return trip in torrential rain.

 

  1. Superhero School Run Mum is always the best source of knowledge for dates, school trips, homework deadlines, charity events, clubs and non-school uniform days. And she has never once ranted over sorting out something for Show and Tell.

 

Personally I think we should shoot the b****, but each to their own…

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The New School Rules

So here we are three days into the first week of ‘back to school’ and it’s becoming abundantly clear that things aren’t what they used to be…

Forget the reception classroom home corner – the days of Mini-me playing Mummies and Daddies with some poor unsuspecting five-year-old boy could be over, or at least numbered.

You see we’ve entered the ‘grown-up’, slightly more structured world of Year One. Which could be good news for Mini-me’s male classmates, who she seems to rotate in order of who she fancies marrying on any given week.

I’m reliably informed that you instruct the ‘lucky’ recipient of your affections of your plans to get hitched – and then watch as they sprint across the playground. Which is good news for the other half bearing in mind that he says boys are not allowed until she’s 27.

Anyway, it looks like Year One is going to be a steep learning curve for us parents too.

Here’s what I’ve swotted up on so far – perhaps you’ve found the same…

 

  1. Your offspring will no longer cry as they line up at the start of the day. You in fact will be the one shedding a few stray tears, because ‘Don’t they look grown up…’ (cough, sniffle.)

 

  1. Your child will start mentioning actual proper lessons like ‘literacy’, which will weirdly remind you of the time you asked your gran to help you with your algebra homework and she just looked vaguely panicked. Is it possible your kid will soon be asking you complicated questions about verbs?!

 

  1. On the same note you will answer the question: ‘Mummy, what’s dividing’, with something that would not have satisfied Johnny Ball. (Remember him?!)

 

  1. You will be amazed that your child can not only tell you what they had for lunch but is also happy to chat for a couple of minutes about their day. You put this down to it being the first week of school and presume that by Monday it will revert to: ‘Can’t remember. Can I have another snack?’

 

  1. You are proud of the fact that you have been on time for three days in a row. Hopes that this will continue into week two are of course fruitless and soon you will be back to sprinting down the road and trying to vault the playground fence in a time of 36 seconds while towing your poor offspring behind you.

 

  1. You’ve started wondering about things like ‘mixed ability sets’ and what exactly your child will be doing in their ICT lesson while hoping that they don’t reveal to the teacher their iPad addiction to Horrid Henry.

 

  1. Talking of Horrid Henry, you’ve tried to justify the fact that you ate dinner in the same kitchen as your child last night while both plugged into your own tablets with thoughts that they ‘really need some chill out time’. (Otherwise known as parent rediscovers the Cold Feet box set.)

 

  1. Although you’re not enjoying the unseasonably humid weather you kind of hope it stays that way so you can get some wear out of Mini-me’s two new summer dresses (which don’t need ironing.)

 

  1. You feel guilty about the fact that your friend told you their house was eerily quiet and they were missing their child, while you secretly revelled in the silence…

 

  1. You enjoy looking at all the obligatory ‘kids in uniform on front step’ piccies on Facebook and remember with amusement the many years when it REALLY bored you senseless.

 

  1. You have a long and most enjoyable coffee outing with your close mum friends and thank god that ‘therapy at the school gates’ is now a daily fixture once more.

Judgmental parenting – in all its forms

So it seems this Facebook ‘Motherhood Challenge’ thingy has been causing quite a bit of a stir.

Articles in the nationals moaning about the ‘smugness’ of being nominated to post pictures of you and your kids on social media, people dissecting the whole issue on breakfast radio, people who have done it getting upset that others are upset about it.

And so the debate rolls on…

Having not been nominated myself I can only assume I must be slap, bang in the middle of the ‘crappy mum’ camp. Well, tell me something I didn’t already know!

Only joking – I can’t profess to have had majorly strong feelings either way on this one. Apart from noticing none of my FB friends had tagged me, and scanning through the lovely snaps of those that have.

I do understand the dislike of the whole ‘parental club’ thing though. You know what I mean, feeling like you’re included in something (even though you’re not even sure entirely what that is) and so somehow endorsed as a member of the badge-wearing ‘good parenting’ brigade.

Way back when after having Mini-me, like most first-time mums I suppose, I really felt the need to try and slot in with all the other mums I knew.

The fact that I hated, and I mean REALLY hated, breastfeeding worried me stupid for example because others used to wax lyrical about the amazing, natural bonding and sheer joy of it all.

Meanwhile I sat wincing in front of the television desperately trying to distract myself with episodes of Gilmore Girls and wondering just how long this horrendous, un-natural feeling of being a human cow had to continue for.

I was once reduced to tears by someone who thought fit to comment on how putting Peppa Pig on the iPad was probably not the most stimulating dinner accompaniment for my one-year-old.

Now as a part-time working mum of two of course my skin has thickened, my standards have slipped and I’m far more likely to laugh than cry about such things.

I’m a really big fan of sometimes sloppy, honest parenting – and so are most of my friends. So it’s lovely when we all have a good giggle about that morning’s ‘disasters’ at the school gates.

Mini-me’s pants falling round her ankles as we raced into school this morning was today’s… Nothing like a teaching assistant shouting at you about knicker elastic before 9am to make you feel like mother of the year!

But enough about that.

All this social media outrage has got me thinking about whether I myself am guilty of being a judgmental parent. After all it works both ways.

Just because I don’t juice things for my toddler, limit screen time and scour children’s cookbooks and draw up a weekly menu what gives me the right to scoff at those who do?

And I’ve been really horrible about Gwyneth Paltrow in the past but clearly her uber-healthy methods work for her brood… Resisting the urge to say more here…

Anyway that’s what I’m going to take from all this. Trying to just focus on my own family, making any changes that would be good for us, and perhaps not having a little chuckle about people who choose not to own a TV set or decide to home school.

Because that could quite rightly be construed as horribly smug too.

Drinking, Parenting and rubber ducks

I’ve never been the kind of person to give something up, either in the post-Christmas ‘flabby phase’ or for Lent.

I’m more of the ‘eat what you like and pretend that running after a one and four-year-old equates to proper exercise’ camp. But this year I decided to put the plonk on hold, not as some smug convert to Dry January you understand but really to see how long I could last without it.

(Besides I had a glass or two on my birthday at the start of the month and a small serving at lunch out this past weekend so I wouldn’t fit the proper criteria anyway!)

The result so far is that I’ve managed to pretty much go without my usual nightly glass of wine for more than three weeks. Pretty astounding for me…

One of my early memories back at home from the hospital with Blue-eyed boy is the visit we were paid by our health visitor.

Amongst asking questions about jaundice and feeding she also quizzed us about our drinking habits and how many units of alcohol we consumed on a weekly basis.

We looked at her like she was a bit mad, after all we now had two children under the age of three. Shouldn’t it be obvious then, we thought, that having ‘the odd glass to take the edge off’ was probably going to become a therapeutic – if not medicinal – necessity?

And unlike with Mini-me, I had absolutely no shame second time around in working out exactly how long it takes for a small glass of white wine to work its way out of your system so I could factor this into the feeding schedule. I know, Mother of the Year!

I’ve never really thought much about how becoming a parent has affected my drinking habits. Apart from making the connection that it’s probably gone up as a result.

But when Mini-me started school in September I started to notice that the occasions on which I’d pour myself a glass ‘a little earlier than usual’ were becoming more frequent. Let’s face it sometimes you need a little pick-me up to get through a whingeing bath time episode.

And as one friend said this week, it’s not like we’re out at the pub every other night any more. Vino in the company of rubber ducks can actually constitute a ‘good night’ these days.

Something about juggling even more than I’d been used to in the past though – homework, PTA bits and pieces, reading all the school paperwork, trying to organise regular playdates for Mini-me – with work and, well, just life, meant I’d started to rely on wine perhaps a little more than I should to help me relax of an evening.

Don’t get me wrong. The most I ever drink is a couple of glasses, even on the rare occasions when I am out. And I can’t even remember the last time I had a hangover because, frankly, it’s just not worth it. (God I sound boring!)

I once edited a story at the women’s magazine where I used to work about a mum who hid neat vodka in the iron. If I’d reached this stage I would be worried!

But what’s been nice over the past few weeks is realising that if I can push through the 6pm slump, I’m usually fine with a cuppa come 8.30pm.

(The fact that I seem to have filled the alcohol void with more chocolate and cake-type treats is by the by!)

How long my uncharacteristic drinking behaviour continues for remains to be seen.

We’re moving house in a few weeks so all that lovely packing will probably drive me to drink.

But honestly if I can get through some evenings without reaching for the corkscrew (or more often these days the screw top!) then I’m not going to worry about those days when I text my friends asking whether it’s ‘wine o’clock’ yet.

Because I’m only human – and the fact remains that I have absolutely no desire to become Gwyneth Paltrow.

The Highs and Lows of November

When it comes to rubbish months of the year November has to be bottom of the calendar charts.

It’s invariably soggy as hell, with a bit of gale-force wind thrown in for good measure. Brilliant for daily hair disasters.

It’s a reminder that the golden, glory dates of autumn are really behind us, but that Christmas isn’t quite close enough yet to give us a welcome festive boost.

It’s when the dark evenings (or should I say afternoons) start closing in and the school run becomes a MAJOR daily slog.

And it’s when you can actually feel your muffin top growing as you comfort eat yet another bar of chocolate, kidding yourself that: ‘Jumpers hide it…’

Well imagine the joy in the Neat Freak household when you add to this already unbeatable combination two weeks of sickness bugs.

Yes, we’ve been struck down good and proper by the lurgy here. From chest infections to projectile vomiting, we could have provided all the symptoms needed for a compelling episode of Casualty.

The children and I have been largely housebound and slowly going insane. After all there’s only so many times you can watch the Gene Wilder version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (Sorry Johnny, it is better.)

But I have to say that it was undoubtedly the other half who drew the shortest straw when Mini-me threw up in his mouth. No I’m not kidding.

It might make good fodder for her wedding speech at some point but this was little comfort to hubby as he gagged and cleaned his teeth for the fifteenth time in 10 minutes.

Actually more disgusting then the time I resorted to sucking bogies out of Blue-eyed boy’s nose to help him breathe – and we never thought we’d sink to that family low again.

Fortunately I have amazing friends who have kept me smiling by offering to entertain Mini-me on playdates, picking up the odd bit of shopping and bringing me chocolate.

Of course it was actually supposed to be for the school’s Christmas bazaar, but in my defence I really didn’t mean to eat it.

Now health and sanity have been largely restored though and with the start of the festive party season – roughly translated as school mums get blotto down the local – around the corner things are looking up. (As an aside I still think our decision to do secret santa cocktails is genius!)

Plus I’ve also had some very exciting news after being informed that this blog has been selected to be part of the new Mums in the Know Super Blogger Network!

Which must mean more people than just my mother-in-law and BFF and neighbour are reading it. Hurrah – and thanks!

The Primary School, Parental Exploding Brain Equation

I’m supposed to be working, but I’ve just spent the last 20 minutes frantically googling ‘neon children’s outer-wear’…

No Mini-me isn’t off to an ‘80s themed birthday party (although it would make a change from Frozen come to think about it, and involve better music), no this is just one of the new daily challenges my parental friends and I are facing. Those of us with reception class age children, I should say.

The second half of Mini-me’s first term at primary school kicked off this week, and I’m still not used to the rapidly expanding pile of paperwork, various important diary dates (non uniform, slight variation on uniform, fund-raising, special events etc.) and homework and project related stuff I need to be on top off.

Yes apparently I am now Mini-me’s PA – on top of being her personal chef (yes fish fingers and baked beans count), social secretary, style advisor, washer-woman and maid. And as it turns out I’m not very good at the job.

So far today I have forgotten that tomorrow is her class group’s show and tell day and that it is ‘Be Bright Day’. Namely where she needs to be decked out in some kind of luminous coat, scarf and hat combo that drivers and cyclists can see should she be walking to or from school with me in the dark.

Yes I know it’s a very worthy idea, I just wish I’d remembered so I didn’t have to spend time locating day-glo ear muffs at a shop that’s convenient for hubby to ‘swing by’ on the way to Euston Station. Because no one in their right mind would go late-night shopping with a knackered four and one-year-old in tow.

Hopefully Mini-me’s resident pink hat will do the job. I could ‘customise’ it with a bit of silver foil I suppose.

Yes we’re all still adapting to the ‘primary school chapter’, but the good thing is I know we’re not alone. My brilliant school mum friends are keeping me sane and laughing and long may this last.

So two months along here’s a few new things I’ve learned. Maybe some of them will sound familiar.

  1. You used to think you were late for school in the first couple of weeks, but now you know the real meaning of ‘cutting it fine.’ It involves bringing the car to a screeching halt most mornings, sprinting down the road towing poor offspring behind you and other (more well prepared) parents quickly getting out of your way in the playground as they register the panic in your eyes.
  1. You know NEVER to turn up to school pick-up without a snack of some kind for your child about your person. And if you forget, prepare for whinging, crying and them trying to grab a biscuit out of their best friend’s hand.
  1. You are pathetically grateful to your child’s class parents Facebook group. Without kind reminders from your peers you would be DOOMED!
  1. Your child’s ‘hair repertoire’ is now limited to bunches because they are easy. If Mini-me ever requests a French plait I may have a breakdown.
  1. Forget skinny jeans or heels, the best clothing purchase you have ever made is a decidedly untrendy but useful rain jacket with hood. Looking stylish is now even lower on the list of daily priorities than it used to be.
  1. A good ‘morning routine’ is a day which doesn’t involve shouting from you, shouting from offspring and hubby shouting down the stairs about all the shouting.
  1. That the fact that Mini-me can now read books to Blue-eyed boy is AMAZING. Admittedly the plots are a bit limited so far, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
  1. That you now do more washing than a small hotel. And if the machine packs up you cannot be held responsible for your actions.
  1. That when Mini-me says innocently that she’s ‘looking forward to homework’ it fills your heart with joy. And wonder over how long this is likely to last.
  1. That no matter how soon after lunch you ask, your child will NEVER be able to remember what they ate that day. But they will always remember if they got a sticker for eating it all.