It's that time of the year again.......
Ahhh, the time of year when school is almost out. The time that teachers up and down the country have been counting down to forever and parents have been silently dreading whilst also convincing themselves how they will absolutely nail the summer holidays, finding lots of fun things to do with their small rascals and definitely not spend their time mindlessly shouting in a parent-Tourettes style about such matters as shoes, teeth and "just eat a god-damn vegetable would you?!"
Me? I'm kind of halfway between the two if I'm honest. I love this time of year, not least because the weather we are having in the UK at the moment is all kinds of summer goals, to the point where everyone of my generation is at risk of turning into our parents where they will reminisce forevermore about the hot summer we had in 2018. (Summer of '76 for anyone who remembers it, there's your vintage reference for this week......) But I also love the prospect of spending a full six weeks with my small rascal. Sure, it'll get to possibly day two when we start clashing and I'll have to take five minutes out in a darkened room dreaming of a large G&T, but in the main I'm quite excited. Mainly because it's going to involve a couple of holidays and weekends away (because let's face it, this girl loves a holiday) but also, it will be my rascals birthday over the summer holidays. Yes, he's a young one in the school year, which brings a whole lot of other issues at times but surely the best part has to be he will never spend a birthday at school (although he will get the biggest shock when he's grown up and has to actually do some work on his birthday) so his birthdays for the foreseeable future will involve spending the day on the beach if we're lucky, being in the park, eating ice cream and, although there will definitely be a time when he doesn't want to, he also gets to spend the whole day with me. (Let's not even go there at imagining the time when he doesn't want to do that, it brings on all kind of Mum-Anxiety for me, so yes, let's just not think about those days thank you very much.)
I decided in my wisdom this week to take a few minutes (for minutes, read 2 hours....) to have a "quick" tidy up around the playroom. Mainly in preparation for the onslaught of summer holiday tat that is bound to arrive in the house at some point over the next few weeks. These toys seem to pop up out of nowhere and I'm sure I've mentioned before my constant disappointment with Happy Meal toys these days (seriously, I'm sure they used to be good?!) but I had a very happy couple of hours listening to a podcast (obsessed with these at the moment, let me know any suggestions you guys have as need some more although I'm sure I won't get a lot of time to listen to them over the next few weeks!) whilst loading crap into a couple of bin bags, sorting through tat to donate to the charity shop and the really grim tat which is heading straight for the bin. At this point I made my first summer holiday resolution of not buying incessant tat (I'm using that word way too much in this blog this week but I don't feel any other word quite cuts it) and being bombarded into chants of "pleeeeeeeaaaasssse Mummy, I've wanted one of these forever" whilst on a supermarket trip.
This resolution of course, despite the inner promises of doing online shopping only to avoid such things, almost definitely won't happen.
But until then, we have the last week of school to contend with. The week where they have pretty much no work to do and just "Get To Play Constantly." I hear that a film afternoon is planned (Greatest Showman) and a water fight, though I'm pretty certain Rascal has made that last one up. It's also one of his favourite days of the year - Sports Day. The day he prepares himself for as though he's training for the Olympics and takes the entire thing as seriously as a six year old possibly can. This makes me ridiculously happy as I was the kid at school who attempted to pull a sickie most years (every year) in the hope I wouldn't have to take part in sports day. I hated any of the team sports as I was always the one who would be put as far away from all the action as possible so used to just stand and daydream for a while until a ball came close and I actually had to show some willing. Swimming was a nightmare for me as I couldn't do it, (fun fact, I only learnt to swim at the age of around 35) and I vividly remember standing next to the high jump bar, which was a good metre taller than me, (wasn't difficult) sobbing before being told to forget it and go and get out of the way. My PE school report one year even noted that "I coasted through the year without really breaking sweat." Thankfully Rascal very much takes after his Dad in the sports department, something which I'm eternally grateful for.
By the end of this week, my Rascal will be out of Infant School and preparing to head up to Junior School, which makes me feel incredibly proud and incredibly old all at the same time. I'm sure he'll come out with the obligatory carrier bag of "Stuff I Have Made" which will be adorning the house until I can pass it on to Grandparents, the recycling bin or a mixture of the two. (I may have used a little artistic license in that last comment, being the proud owner of a box of stuff I haven't been able to throw away since he was at nursery. Memo to self, you might want to start having a clear out of that at some point.)
Until then, I am looking forward to the next six weeks - to losing the rigid routines of drop off and pick up, the moments of utter dread when you realise you'd forgotten it was non uniform day / wear purple day / dress up as a roman soldier day, (delete as applicable) and of course, losing the majority of my sanity until September.
But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.