I might be 31, married with two children, two mortgages, and a Ford Focus in a sensible colour, but it has taken until now for me to find something that makes me feel like a grown-up. Actually, that's a lie. It doesn't make me feel like a grown-up, it makes me want to run away and hide my head under a duvet and pretend that this is something I don't have to think about.
It is time to apply for schools. I am in a state of disbelief over this. I thought I had years before I had to think about the whole business, but, as it turns out, those years have somehow happened without me really noticing, and now I have to apply for schools. I have already put off the preliminary thinking that most of my friends have already done on the subject when they were deciding on pre-schools, and I kept The Big'un in the nursery she was already at (for practical reasons, not just because I was procrastinating). But now there is no escape. I must do The Thinking.
And there is apparently much thinking to be done. Much thinking and reading and listening and researching and deciding. One must consider league tables and Ofsted reports and catchment areas and over-subscription criteria and appeals processes. Somehow, it is necessary to become a sudden expert in what makes a "good" school and how to spot one. Because, if you listen to just about anyone, it is the most important decision you will ever make in your whole life and if you get it wrong your child will be doomed to a terrible and depressing life. And you're only making the decision about which ones to apply for. Then someone else gets to decide which one you will actually get a place at.
It all makes me angry and tired. I could, were I in the mood, launch into a lengthy political rant about how terribly wrong it is that every child can not just walk into their nearest school and be assured of a decent education, about how much pressure is put on parents to make great sacrifices and go to great lengths in order to secure a place at a good school, but this is neither the time nor the place for such tirades, and I am trying to watch Cool Runnings. So, instead, I extend my sympathies to all parents out there who are applying this year. I look forward to the day my application goes in and I can stop worrying about it. And start worrying about how the hell I am going to get my child somewhere, dressed and with all the appropriate paraphernalia, for 9am, FIVE DAYS IN A ROW. I need a lie down at the very thought.
Sunday 30 September 2012
Tuesday 18 September 2012
Many Things
September's been pretty busy so far. I keep waiting for life to get back to normal and stop being busy, but perhaps life is always busy when you have a job, two small children, a house that, sadly, does not clean itself, and friends and family who will insist on doing such things as getting married, having birthdays, or just having the audacity to want to do spend time together.
So we have been doing quite a lot of things. The first thing we did was attend a family wedding, where the children were flower-girls. I had been feeling somewhat anxious about this for a while, but refrained from saying anything on here for fear of upsetting the already-nervous bride. I don't know if you've ever tried to persuade a three-year-old and a 15-month-old to walk in a more-or-less straight line, and in a specific direction, at a specific time. Try it sometime, if you should ever have two such children at your disposal. Preferably ones you know, don't just grab them off the street, that gets you in trouble. Anyway, it is not easy, and as the big day edged closer my visions of them running away, refusing to move, screeching at the registrar or eating the flowers grew more vivid. But in the event, they were lovely. The Big'un walked beautifully and scattered her petals. And The Littl'un...well, she sat down in the middle of the aisle, then stood up and gawked around her at all the people, then tried to walk the wrong way for a bit, while I was crouching in the aisle frantically calling and gesturing and waving a packet of chocolate buttons at her, but people thought she was funny, and she did not have a tantrum, so I'd say that was pretty successful. And they very much enjoyed the soft-play bus that had been hired to entertain the children. It was amazing. I want it to come and live in my garden.
The next thing that happened was my birthday. And for my birthday, my wonderful mother got me the best present ever - a train ticket to London and two days of babysitting. I went and had a lovely time with my sister, wandering around the shops, going for brunch and sitting in the sunshine in Soho drinking wine. And not once did I have to threaten to put anyone in the corner, or stand in the street remonstrating with a child who will not remove herself from the window display of a shop. It was just a shame that motherhood has made me so feeble that after going for dinner, my honest answer to the question "What do you want to do next?" was "I want to put my pyjamas on and watch telly".
There have probably been a few more things that we've done, but I can't think of anything particularly interesting to say about them. If you want to know how the children are doing, they are fine. The Littl'un has some new teeth. Not entirely sure when they appeared. She spends most of her time either shouting and shrieking in her own, entirely incomprehensible, language and climbing on to or into stuff. Oh, and eating. And she thinks everything that looks remotely like a bird is a "cak-cak".
The Big'un is being a bit rubbish with the sleeping again. You know how that goes, I can't be arsed to whinge about it again. Her current thing to try and get out of trouble is to tell me that she's scared. She did a poo on the loo the other day, and we all got over-excited. She now goes to nursery two days a week, and I think she's happy. She tells me every day that she has been playing with Talesha. I found out yesterday that Talesha left in July. It seems that my daughter has simply replaced one little blonde girl with another and now plays with Grace, just does not trouble herself to call her the correct name. At least not to me, hopefully she calls her the right name to her face. And she also seems to have developed a weird accent when she says certain words, like "silly". It sounds very like Mickey Rourke's accent in Iron Man 2.
Thus concludeth the update. Thanks for stopping by.
So we have been doing quite a lot of things. The first thing we did was attend a family wedding, where the children were flower-girls. I had been feeling somewhat anxious about this for a while, but refrained from saying anything on here for fear of upsetting the already-nervous bride. I don't know if you've ever tried to persuade a three-year-old and a 15-month-old to walk in a more-or-less straight line, and in a specific direction, at a specific time. Try it sometime, if you should ever have two such children at your disposal. Preferably ones you know, don't just grab them off the street, that gets you in trouble. Anyway, it is not easy, and as the big day edged closer my visions of them running away, refusing to move, screeching at the registrar or eating the flowers grew more vivid. But in the event, they were lovely. The Big'un walked beautifully and scattered her petals. And The Littl'un...well, she sat down in the middle of the aisle, then stood up and gawked around her at all the people, then tried to walk the wrong way for a bit, while I was crouching in the aisle frantically calling and gesturing and waving a packet of chocolate buttons at her, but people thought she was funny, and she did not have a tantrum, so I'd say that was pretty successful. And they very much enjoyed the soft-play bus that had been hired to entertain the children. It was amazing. I want it to come and live in my garden.
The next thing that happened was my birthday. And for my birthday, my wonderful mother got me the best present ever - a train ticket to London and two days of babysitting. I went and had a lovely time with my sister, wandering around the shops, going for brunch and sitting in the sunshine in Soho drinking wine. And not once did I have to threaten to put anyone in the corner, or stand in the street remonstrating with a child who will not remove herself from the window display of a shop. It was just a shame that motherhood has made me so feeble that after going for dinner, my honest answer to the question "What do you want to do next?" was "I want to put my pyjamas on and watch telly".
There have probably been a few more things that we've done, but I can't think of anything particularly interesting to say about them. If you want to know how the children are doing, they are fine. The Littl'un has some new teeth. Not entirely sure when they appeared. She spends most of her time either shouting and shrieking in her own, entirely incomprehensible, language and climbing on to or into stuff. Oh, and eating. And she thinks everything that looks remotely like a bird is a "cak-cak".
The Big'un is being a bit rubbish with the sleeping again. You know how that goes, I can't be arsed to whinge about it again. Her current thing to try and get out of trouble is to tell me that she's scared. She did a poo on the loo the other day, and we all got over-excited. She now goes to nursery two days a week, and I think she's happy. She tells me every day that she has been playing with Talesha. I found out yesterday that Talesha left in July. It seems that my daughter has simply replaced one little blonde girl with another and now plays with Grace, just does not trouble herself to call her the correct name. At least not to me, hopefully she calls her the right name to her face. And she also seems to have developed a weird accent when she says certain words, like "silly". It sounds very like Mickey Rourke's accent in Iron Man 2.
Thus concludeth the update. Thanks for stopping by.
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