8.00am. Water the tomatoes, courgettes, sweetcorn, carrot, cabbages that have been eaten, and the pea. We'll count that as a success. It is the only surviving pea in the harsh landscape that is the Grit vegetable garden.
9.00am. Plan the day. Promise Squirrel honesthonesthonest I will book her on the kayaking course next week. Yes, I know I said I would do it today but there may not be time. Look, next week things will be quiet because Shark will not be here. Honest. Honest. Honest. Next week.
9.45am. Get Shark into car. Drive to local downbeat town, where the lads hang about at midday drinking lager, the ladeez are very wide indeed, and the houses are boarded up, run down and have a washing machine in the front garden. But here the charity shops are well stocked and cheap. Here a canny buyer can pick up an Episode silk dress for 99p. Today we are sourcing seven days worth of jeans and tee-shirts for Shark to cover in mud, grass, river, and cow poo. She will be enjoying herself from tomorrow on an adventure holiday in Wales, booked yesterday.
1.45pm. Shopping success! Arrive home exhausted, penniless and starving. I am also rather whiffy thanks to running out of Dove deodorant. Swap over children. Get Tiger in the car and drive to the local stables to negotiate putting Tiger there for August holiday horse experience.
3.35pm. Horse success! Tiger is skillfully negotiated in at the stables for one week, learning how to muck out and do things with hay. Arrive home exhausted, financially destroyed, smelling of manure, starving, and depressed after finding out that the partner of Tee, who owns the stables, died last week in a road traffic accident. At home, Tiger has a fit because this morning at the charity shop I picked up a pair of Junior Joules wellington boots (RRP £29; RSPCA £2) and they are blue. Blue! Not PINK! How can she wear blue wellington boots to the stables! This is impossible. She is beside herself with fury because now look what this hopeless mother has done! She has bankrupted herself at the riding stables, promised Squirrel a watersports week, got Shark sorted for an adventure holiday, and chosen the WRONG BLOODY COLOUR OF WELLINGTONS.
4.00pm. Bang head against wall in despair. Swap over children. Get Squirrel in car to drive to ballet even though it is a five-minute walk. We do not have time to walk after arguing with Tiger.
4.03 pm. All the ballet mums hate me. While they are clucking and fussing about the doorway going into the ballet studio, they throw looks of disdain at me down their pointy pink noses. It is the last lesson of term and parents have to watch and I have clearly forgot. I turn up smelly, ruined, late, and with dribble from a hastily-eaten tomato sandwich running down my front. While I am gripping my hands to my head, Squirrel says we always forget about watching her at ballet. I say this is because we live a flipping hectic life and it's not as though I am lying on the sofa injecting heroin into my face.
The worst ballet mum of all turns her head away from me; her contemptuous glance is probably reserved for me and the drunk tramp stinking of wee in the doorway at Lidl. And that disdainful glance has said everything. In the eyes of the ballet mums, I am failed. I can almost hear her think, That wretched hippy educating woman! Tsk. She obviously doesn't care one jot about that child. She can't even be bothered to turn up and watch the end of term lesson! And she has probably spent her day lying on the sofa injecting heroin into her face AGAIN.
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6 comments:
Pay no attention to those ballet mums who can afford to shop at 'Arrods and send their little darlings to be kitted out in hoity-toity shops. You are fully engaged with your kids - in there with them at every turn. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I admire you. I know I couldn't do it - you're doing a great thing.
x
thank you kitty; i suspect that i just do not fit into the suburban ballet world. i have tried, but probably with not much conviction. i fit better in the local library where i can slump in a chair behind the dvds.
I probably shouldn't be surprised that they all want to do completely different things but I am impressed with your tenacity to support their different interests.
Grit, you should re-read your last post and then totally ignore those stupid BMs who have neither the wit nor wisdom to achieve half of what you pack into each and every day.
Re the 5 year gap between my boys (which was not by choice) I mostly filled it with up to 4 kids at a time of various ages and genders belonging to other people - and they paid to spend time with me!
Tough day!! (((hugs)))
They're probably intimidated by the evidence of all your hardwork - or alternatively, she just didn't see you because that side of her face was malfunctioning due to all the heroin injected into it...
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