Thursday, 23 July 2009
Hooray! The Summer Holidays are here at last! Lie ins! Stretchy moments in bed! Long Leisurely Breakfasts!
Long days with Children.
The typical conversation has already taken place with the 'Organised Mothers' who say things like,
'Well, the children are booked on a Week's Sailing Course in the Lakes followed by a Fortnight Enrichment Course In Maths, English and the Sciences. Oh, and they so love Comunity Work that they have another week in the local library to help with the Summer Reading Week.'
Bollocks to all that. Mine aren't booked onto anything. We are going to Devon to stay with Mother in Law. Then to Essex to house sit for my sister. Otherwise we are Here.
Summer holidays are a bit like Last Minute Dot Com. We do everything at the last minute.
Let's go to the Beach!
Let's go swimming!
Let's go for a picnic!
Let's go and play tennis!
Let's do Bugger All!
Life has been so horrendously busy the last few weeks that have probably missed all the deadlines for tennis and sailing and golf and summer camps and Life Skills in Cookery.
Why am I so Bloody Useless at Organising the Holidays?
Husband comes home at end of day on Typical Summer Holidays Day.
'Did you go to the beach?' he will ask Brightly.
'Nope,' we all reply. Slumped in front of telly.
'What did you do?'
We all look at each other.
'Had lunch,' says someone.
'Yes, and fed the chickens.'
Husband looks grieved and goes out into vegetable garden.
What we did actually do was fun. We probably had a friend over. Cleaned out the chickens. Made lunch together. Went for a walk. Made a castle out of cereal boxes for the rabbit. That Sort Of Thing.
I find that the more I organize for my children the more they want things organised for them. So we just do the odd organised thing. Like that sailing course last year. The rest of the time is theirs and mine. We fill it with inconsequential things. We rest. We play. We go to the beach. We find a tennis court and play, all four of us, on one court. Middle Son loves his tennis so I cram him, last minute style onto any tennis camp I can find.
We go to Pizza Express, the children's Mecca of Restaurants. I bully them to make their sodding beds and clean out their rooms. We wash up together and make the meals together. Feed the chickens and water the pots.
Sometimes we have lovely days. Sometimes they are Crap. Usually they are OK.
Ordinary days of an ordinary life.
And when you look at the news on a typical day, Ordinary seems very good indeed.
Right. Must see when that Tennis Camp starts. Middle son champing to do it. And Daughter wants to have a sleep over or two with her friends. And Youngest wants to go swimming.
So. We'll do that then.
As for the rest of the holidays... let's just see How It Goes.
One day at a time.
St-r-e-t-ch. This Is The Life.
More coffee anyone?