This week is officially to be known as the “the week of ekks!”
Everything is going to be happening.
One thing after the other. Like an out of control game of dominos that’s going to topple everything in its path. *Quick… get outta the way!
And, I can’t help feel that at least 50% of the stress that’s already biting at my heels is because school forget that some parents work.
Because all parents (who jolly well can’t be working…eh?!) should have the magical ability to drop everything to attend ‘something vague’ happening at school. Which may or may not be happening in a few days. At gawd knows what time. But it’s in the school newsletter so you would be a) a fool not to take note and b) a super fool for not clearing your entire diary for that day for whatever it is. *Goes into the bathroom to have a quick scream into the oblivion… returns looking like a deranged, run-ragged scarecrow.
No seriously. It really is one of my pet hates. And I also feel completely awful and guilty for moaning about it too, because I’m sure if there was more time and resources, the appropriate letters would have been sent out in a timely fashion – giving those of us who do actually WORK the chance to sort-it-out. *Perhaps…
For those that have no idea what I’m talking about… let me explain.
Kids return home from school.
KIDS: “It’s dress up day tomorrow. I NEEEEEEED to be a spaceman”.
ME: “WWHhhhhhaaattt??! Was there a letter???? Did I miss something???”
KIDS: “I think they forgot to tell everyone. But the teacher said you can put something together tonight”
ME: “Ermmm… great”.
Spend all night working on spaceman costume. Blinking worst time to realise the there’s only enough foil left to cover one titchy chicken kiev (how it that going to cover a child!!). Bust a gut and a eye bag to get something together in time.
KIDS: Skip off happily to school in costume.
ME: Drag self to work after zero hours sleep. Look in mirror and realise still covered in silver paint. Look like Tin Man from Wizard of Oz.
Kids return home from school. Hand over slip of paper.
ME: (Reads out loud) “All children to have a plain yellow t shirt in school for this Friday”.
ME: “Pah!” she says. “How hard can it be to get a yellow t shirt?” “I’ll just pop into the shops AFTER work”.
ME: On a Thursday night still trawling the shops for a plain yellow t shirt. “Someone helllllppppp me pllllleeeeeaaaassssssseeee!!!”
Other parent on Whatsapp: “Try Asda – they have school polo shirts in plain yellow”.
ME: “Why didn’t anyone telllll mmmmeeee before!”. *Sobs when realises this was discussed at great length over cups of tea at school drop off – for which working parent will forever be absent from because working parent is at blinking work.
KIDS: “Thanks for the yellow t shirt. The teacher says it can be for next week now”.
ME: “Oh goody. A whole weekend of not having to look for a yellow t shirt in daylight hours, marvellous”.
Kids return home brandishing newsletter. Shove in parents face.
KIDS: “Is the teacher going to talk about me?”
ME: “A this rate, probably not because I can’t work this blooming booking system on the website for parents evening”.
ME: Baffled. Confused and wary click at all the buttons on the booking system. Nothing is working. Looks at newsletter. Parents evening is printed on two days of the teeny calendar. On two days. Can that be right?? Why is there no letter. Maybe the booking system isn’t open?
ME: “Did the teacher say when the booking opens?”
ME: Monday morning at work. Tries to book. Still doesn’t work. Decide to try later in lunch break. Manages to log in during lunch break.
It now works! But all the good slots have been booked.
KIDS: “There’s something all the parents have to go to. It’s in the newsletter”.
ME: Stares in ecstatic disbelief at said newsletter. There’s actually a paragraph on what is going to be happening. Holds up newsletter. “This is the best newsletter that you have EVER had!”
ME: Looks closer. There is a description that is usually NEVER there. And there is a date for the event. BUT…. “did they say what time it starts???”
ME: “Maybe that will in next week’s newsletter?”
ME: Reads txt message: because of a burst pipe, you must collect your child now.
ME: Runs out of work like mad women. Makes huge dash across London. On train. Then bus. Runs to school. Arrives red faced and panting. Clearly from running. But pleased for breaking record for getting back in just over half and hour.
RECEPTION: We’ve been calling you for ages but you didn’t pick up. EVERYONE else has already been picked up and have gone home.
KIDS: Hand over newsletter.
ME: Has a read. Nothing sticks out. No last second events or meetings to attend on first glance.
ME: Re-reads very VERY carefully. Spots an extremely important meeting in the teeny tiny calendar section to attend with no time. Just a day. No information. No nothing.
ME: “Does that mean it’s a day thing??!!” “Are there any other letters??!” “Any more information?”
ME: Decides to wait till nearer the time, because there MUST be a letter for this super important meeting. Right?
ME: Wrong! There is nothing. But wait. Wait a second. Snuck into the following weeks teeny weeny calendar in the new newsletter is a time. There’s a day and a start time. But that’s it. Nothing else.
ME: Forced to book whole day off work just in case. Fab!